LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  01  EGO 


1 


HOM  ER: 

AN   INTRODUCTION  TO  THE   ILIAD 
AND  THE  ODYSSEY. 


/  / ^OJ 

HOMER: 

AN    INTRODUCTION   TO   THE    ILIAD 
AND   THE    ODYSSEY. 


BY 


:.   JEBB,    LITT.D. 


REGIUS    PROFESSOR   OF   GREEK   AND    FELLOW   OF   TRINITY   COLLEGE 

CAMBRIDGE,    AND    M.P.    FOR   THE    UNIVERSITY:     HON.    D.C.L. 

OXON.  :     HON.    LL.D.    HARVARD,    EDINBURGH,    GLASGOW 

AND   DUBLIN  :    HON.    DOCT.    PHILOS.    BOLOGNA. 


SIXTH  EDITION. 


BOSTON : 

GINN    &    COMPANY 

1904 


PREFACE. 


THE  purpose  of  this  book  is  to  furnish,  in  a 
compact  form,  a  general  introduction  to  the  study  of 
Homer. 

The  four  chapters  into  which  it  is  divided  deal 
respectively  with  four  aspects  of  the  subject : — (i) 
The  general  character  of  the  Homeric  poems,  and 
their  place  in  the  history  of  literature:  (2)  their 
historical  value,  as  illustrating  an  early  period  of 
Hellenic  life  :  (3)  their  influence  in  the  ancient  world, 
and  the  criticism  bestowed  on  them  in  antiquity : 
(4)  the  modern  inquiry  into  their  origin. 

So  far  as  I  am  aware,  there  is  no  one  book, 
English  or  foreign,  which  collects  the  principal  results 
of  modern  study  in  each  of  these  departments. 

Mr  Monro,  the  Provost  of  Oriel,  was  kind  enough 

to  read  a  considerable  part  of  these  pages,  while  they 

were  still  in  an  unfinished  state,  and  to  give  me  the 

benefit  of  his  opinion  on   several  points.     Professor 

J  b 


VI  PREFACE. 

Seymour,  of  Yale,  during  a  visit  to  England  last 
summer,  gave  me  a  signal  proof  of  friendship  in  the 
care  with  which  he  went  through  the  book, — then 
nearly  completed, — and  the  kindness  with  which  he 
permitted  me  to  profit  by  some  suggestions. 

My  thanks  are  also  due  to  Professor  Butcher, 
the  Rev.  M.  A.  Bayfield,  Mr  Sidney  Colvin,  and 
Mr  Walter  Leaf,  for  various  tokens  of  kind  interest 
in  this  work. 


R.  C.  JEBB. 


THE  COLLEGE,  GLASGOW, 
December,  1886. 


Note  to  the  Second  Edition. 

THE  first  edition,  published  in  January,  1887,  was 
exhausted  in  February.  The  present  edition  is  sub- 
stantially identical  with  the  first,  while  on  a  few  points 
of  detail  it  has  profited  by  some  criticisms  with  which 
I  have  been  favoured. 


R.  C.  J. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

GENERAL  LITERARY  CHARACTERISTICS  OF 
THE  POEMS. 

PAGE 

i .     Homeric  Poems — their  twofold  interest  i 

i,     Pre-Homeric  poetry i 

3.  Epic  poetry 3 

4.  Aristotle  on  Homer 4 

5.  Structure  of  the  Iliad 5 

6.  Structure  of  the  Odyssey 8 

7.  Homeric  poetry — its  general  stamp 12 

8.  Relation  to  ballad  poetry 12 

9.  Relation  to  the  literary  epic 16 

10.     Dryden  and  Addison  on  Homer. — The  Wolfians  .         .         .18 

n.     Homer  and  Walter  Scott 19 

12.  The  Homeric  characters 23 

13.  Their  typical  value 24 

14.  Their  expression  in  speech,  or  in  thought      ....  25 

15.  Divine  and  human  action 26 

16.  Homeric  use  of  simile 26 

17.  Why  simile  is  rarer  in  the  Odyssey 29 

18.  Range  of  the  similes     .         .         .         •    i    •         •         •         '3° 

19.  Aggregation  of  similes — how  used  by  Homer        .         .  31 

20.  The  twenty-second  book  of  the  Iliad   .         .         .         .         .  32 

2 1 .  Concluding  remarks      ........  36 


Viii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   II. 
THE  HOMERIC    WORLD. 

PAGE 

i.  The  Hellenic  type  already  mature. — Unity  of  the  picture      .  38 

i.  Homeric  geography, 'inner' and 'outer'  39 

3.  Iliad.     Inner  geography.     Outer  geography         ...  39 

4.  The  'Catalogue' — a  document  apart     .         .        .         .         -41 

5.  Traces  of  personal  knowledge       ......  43 

6,  7.     Odyssey.     Inner  geography.     Outer  geography  ...  44 

8.  Homeric  polity     .........  4.6 

9-     King 47 

10.     Dike  and  themis.     Council.     Agora 48 

u.  Difference  between  Iliad  and  Odyssey  as  pictures  of  polity    .  49 

12.  Homeric  religion 50 

13.  Fate.     Erinyes 51 

14.  Difference  between  Iliad  and  Odyssey  as  to  the  supernatural  52 

15.  Homeric  ethics.     The  family 53 

16.  Slavery 54 

17.  Limit  to  the  sphere  of  themis. — Aidos.     Nemesis         .         .  54 

1 8.  The  Homeric  civilisation      ....  55 

19.  Archaeological  evidence 56 

•20.  Use  of  stone         .         .         .         ......  56 

21.  The  Homeric  house.     The  court 57 

22.  The  aethusa  and  prodomus  .         .         .         .         .         .         -57 

23.  The  megaron        .........  59 

24.  Women's  apartments.     Analogy  to  later  Greek  house  .         .  60 

25.  Interior  fittings  and  decoration,  etc.      .....  61 

26.  Social  manners 62 

27.  Homeric  dress      .........  64 

28.  Homeric  armour  .........  65 

29.  Homeric  art 66 

30.  Shield  of  Achilles.     Other  works 67 

31.  Standards  of  value.     Writing.     Craftsmen.     Merchants        .  69 

32.  Life  in  the  similes.     Scenes  on  the  Shield    ....  70 

33.  Funeral  rites 71 

34.  The  state  of  the  dead 71 


CHAPTER   III. 
HOMER  IN  ANTIQUITY. 

PAGE 

1.  Influence  of  the  Homeric  poems 74 

2.  Minstrelsy  in  Homer.     Iliad.     Odyssey        ....  75 
3,  4.     Post-Homeric  recitation.     Rhapsodes         ....  76 

5.  Homeridae 78 

6.  The  rhapsode  in  the  fourth  century  B.C 78 

7.  Was  Homer  ever  sung  ?    The  rhapsode  as  commentator        .  80 

8,  9,  10.     Homer  in  education 81 

II,  12.     Homer's  influence  on  Greek  religion       ....  83 

13.  Greek  view  of  Homer  as  a  historian      .....  84 

14.  Poems  ascribed  to  Homer  in  antiquity           ....  85 

15.  Notices  of  Homer's  life.     Earliest  traces.     A  shadowy  per- 

sonality        87 

1 6.  Allegorizing  interpretation 89 

17.  Rhetorical  treatment 90 

1 8.  Rationalising  criticism 90 

19.  Alexandrian  materials  for  Homeric  criticism.     The  ancient 

vulgate       .........  91 

10.     Zenodotus 92 

21.  Aristophanes 93 

22.  Aristarchus  ..........  93 

23.  Characteristics  of  his  work  .......  94 

24.  Didymus.     Aristonicus.     Herodian.     Nicanor     ...  96 
35.     The  Epitome.     Codex  Venetus  A 96 

26.  The  division  into  books 97 

27.  Crates  and  the  Pergamene  School 98 

28.  Demetrius.     Eustathius 100 

29.  Scholia ioo 

30.  Our  text  of  Homer 101 

CHAPTER   IV. 

THE   HOMERIC   QUESTION. 

1.  The  Chorizontes  .         .         .         .         •  I    •         •         •         •  103 

2.  The  modern  Homeric  question     ......  104 

3,  4.     Surmises  before  Wolf          .         .         .         .         .         .         .105 


X  CONTENTS. 

PACK 

5.  Vico.     Robert  Wood 106 

6.  Wolf's  Prolegomena      .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .107 

7,8.     Wolf  recognised  a  personal  Homer     .....     109 

9.     Objections  to  Wolf's  view  of  writing no 

10.  Summary 113 

n.     The  story  about  Peisistratus 114 

11.  'Nature' and  'art' 116 

13.  Elasticity  of  Wolf 's  theory.     Developments  of  it .         .         .  117 

14.  Lachmann    .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .  118 

15.  Hermann 119 

16.  Reaction.     The  epopee  view.     Nitzsch         ....  120 

17.  Crete's  'Achilleid ' 122 

18,19.     Estimate  of  Crete's  theory 123 

20.  Geddes 125 

21,  22,  23.     W.  Christ 126 

24,25.     Texture  of  the  Odyssey.     Kirchhoff         .         .         .         .128 
26 — 33.     Analogy  of  other  early  epics 131 

34.  Homeric  language         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .136 

35.  Traditional  epic  element 136 

36.  False  archaisms 137 

37,38.     Differences  between  Iliad  and  Odyssey    .         .         .         .138 

39.  Lost  sounds.     The  digamma 139 

40.  Inconstant  use  of  the  digamma  in  Homer     .         .         .         .141 

41.  Supposed  errors  of  transliteration          .....     142 

42.  Pick's  theory 143 

43.  44,  45.     Estimate  of  it 144 

46.  The  tale  of  Troy — how  far  historical 1 47 

47,  48.     Site  of  Homeric  Troy 148 

49.  Origin  of  the  Homeric  picture  of  Troy          .         .         .         .150 

50.  The  Epic  Cycle 151 

51.  Analysis  of  the  Trojan  Cycle 153 

52.  Summary 154 

53.  General  survey  of  results.     Views  which  may  be  rejected      .  155 

54.  Deceptive  unity  of  the  epic  style 156 

55.  Conservative  tendency  of  recent  studies        ....  157 

56.  The  primary  poem.     Special  advantages  of  the  subject          .  157 

57.  The  poem  was  an  '  Iliad '  from  the  first         .        .        .        .158 

58.  Enlargement  of  the  primary  Iliad.     Books  i  to  7          .         .  159 

59.  Books  12  to  15 160 

60.  Books  8  and  9 161 

61.  Books  23  and  24 161 

62.  Book  10.     The  greater  interpolations 162 


CONTENTS.  XI 

PAGE 

63.  Summary. — Age  and  origin  of  the  primary  Iliad     .         .     164 

64.  Arguments  for  the  European  origin. — Two  strata  of 

tradition  ........     164 

65.  Estimate  of  this  argument 165 

66.  The  argument  from  Homeric  silence        .         .         .         .166 

67.  Inference — early  fixity  of  form  in  the  Iliad      .         .         .     167 

68.  The  primary  Iliad — perhaps  Thessalian. — The  dialect 

afterwards  lonicised         .         .         .         .         .         .168 

69.  Ancient  belief  in  an  Asiatic  Homer          ....     168 

70.  The  European  claim  can  be  reconciled  with  the  Asiatic     .     169 

71.  Authorship  of  the  earlier  enlargements    .         .         .         '.169 

72.  Predominant  significance  of  the  first  poet         .         .         .     170 
73-     Origin  of  the  Odyssey 171 

74.  Ionian  development  of  the  poem 171 

75.  Authorship 172 

76.  Relations  with  the  Iliad.    Age 172 

77.  Conclusion 173 

APPENDIX. 

Note  i,  p.  61.     The  house  at  Tiryns  (with  plan)     .         .         -175 

Note  i,  p.  136.     Differences  between  Homeric  and  later 

classical  Greek 185 

Note  3,  p.  1 39.     Differences  of  language  between  the  Iliad 

and  the  Odyssey 187 

Note  4,  p.   140.     Homeric  words  which  show  traces  of  the 

digamma   .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .188 

Note  5.     Homeric  versification       ......     190 


A  list  of  books  on  Homer 197 


HOMER. 


CHAPTER   I. 

GENERAL  LITERARY  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POEMS. 

1.  THE  literature  of  Greece,  and  of  Europe,  begins  with  Homeric 
Homer,  whose  name  will  be  used   here   to   denote  '  the  ^heir 
Iliad  and   the    Odyssey]   without  implying  that  one  man  twofold 
composed  the  whole  of  both  or  of  either.     The  interest  of m 
Homer  is   twofold,   poetical   and    historical.      He   is   the 
greatest  epic  poet  of  the  world,  and  the  only  representative 

of  the  earliest  artistic  form  which  the  Greek  mind  gave  to 
its  work.  He  is  also  the  first  author  who  presents  any  clear 
or  vivid  picture  of  Aryan  civilisation.  An  entire  period  of 
early  Hellenic  life  which,  but  for  him,  would  be  almost 
a  blank,  is  seen  to  be  connected  by  an  unbroken  course 
of  development  with  the  later  Hellenic  age. 

2.  The  Homeric  poems  themselves  attest  a  pre-Homeric  Pre-Ho- 
poetry.     They  are   the  creations   of  a  matured  art.     But 

the  earlier  and  ruder  essays  of  that  art  have  left  few 
traces.  The  little  that  is  known  can  be  briefly  summed  up, 
so  far  as  it  directly  concerns  the  study  of  Greek  literature. 

(i)     The  Greeks  had  old  folk-songs  on  the  death  of  (i)  Songs 
a   beautiful  youth, — Linus,    Hylas,    lalemus,    Hyacinthus,  °e 
Adonis, — i.e.  on  the  spring  yielding  to  summer,  the  summer 

J-  J 


2  HOMER.  [CH.    I. 

to  autumn,  or  the  like.  In  the  Iliad  the  '  Linos '  is  a  solo 
sung  by  a  youth  to  the  lyre  at  a  vintage  festival,  among  the 
maidens  and  youths  who  carry  the  baskets  of  grapes,  and 
who  dance  in  time  to  the  song  (//.  18.  569)'.  The  origin 
of  such  songs  was  Semitic.  But  they  suited  that  early 
phase  of  the  Aryan  mind  in  which  religion  was  chiefly 
a  sense  of  divinity  in  the  forces  of  outward  Nature,  and 
which,  in  India,  is  represented  by  the  Vedic  hymns.  A 
distinctively  Greek  element  began  early  to  show  itself  in 
the  numerous  local  legends  as  to  the  personal  relationships 
of  the  youth  who  had  perished. 

(2)  Le-          (2)    A  later  stage  than  that   in    which   the   Linus-song 
bardsary  origmated   is   represented   by  the   legends   of  the  earliest 
(a)Thra-  Greek  bards,     (a)  Some  of  these  are  called  'Thracian,'  and 
clan        are  associated  with  the  worship  of  'the  Muses' — the  god- 
desses of  memory,  or  record,  a  worship  which  can  be  traced 
as   spreading   from  the  northern  coasts  of  the  Aegean  to 
the   district   Pieria   at   the   N.E.    corner   of  Thessaly,  and 
thence  southwards  to  the  Boeotian  Helicon  and  the  Phocian 

(b)  South-  Parnassus,     (b)  Other  prehistoric  bards  are  specially  asso- 
eroup       ciated   with   hymns   to   Apollo,  —  indicating    a    stream   of 

influence  which  passed  from  Asia,  through  Crete  and  other 

(c)  Asia-  Aegean   islands,    to   Greece    Proper.      (c)    A  third   group 
tic  group.  Qf  eariy  bards  is  connected  with   Asia  Minor,  especially 

1  These  Nature-songs  were  brought  from  the  East  to  Greece,  and 
then,  in  Greek  fashion,  were  linked  with  local  myths.  The  song  of 
Linos  probably  came  from  Phrygia  through  Thrace,  and  was  specially 
localised  at  Argos.  Sappho  used  the  form  OiYoAicos,  which,  ace.  to 
Paus.  9.  19.  8,  she  derived  from  very  ancient  hymns,  ascribed  to 
the  Athenian  Pamphos.  Herodotus  (2.  79)  identifies  Linos  with  the 
Egyptian  prince  Maneros,  (  —  ma-n-hra,  'come  to  me',  the  refrain  of  a 
song  in  which  Isis  was  represented  as  mourning  Osiris) :  and  says  that 
the  song  (aew/ia)  'Linos'  was  famous  in  Cyprus,  Phoenicia,  and  else- 
where. 'Linos'  came  from  a.t\ivov,  ai  lenu,  'woe  for  us',  the  refrain 
of  the  Phoenician  mourners  in  Syria  and  Cyprus  for  Thammuz  (Ezek. 
viii.  14),  the  Greek  Adonis.  Similar  conceptions  were  the  Lydian  and 
Phrygian  Attes  or  Atys,  the  Bithynian  Bormos,  the  Mysian  Hylas,  the 
Lacedaemonian  Hyacinthos,  the  Arcadian  Skephros  (ffKtQpo 
the  Thracian  lalemos. 


CH.   I.]  GENERAL    CHARACTERISTICS.  3 

Phrygia,  and  with  Asiatic  worship,  such  as  that  of  Cybele1. 
Taken  collectively,  these  sparse  and  vague  traditions  have  a 
•clear  general  meaning.     They  point  to  an  age  when  the 
Hellenic  tribes  were  still  in  passage  from  Asia  to  Europe.  General 
They  show  that  a  cultivation  of  poetry, — partly  Pre-Hellenic  re 
in  its  religious  motive,  but  already  Hellenic  in  its  form, — 
had   begun   before   the    Hellenic   populations   had   settled 
down  in  their  European  seats. 

(3)   Lastly,  Homer  himself  mentions  those  heroic  lays  (3)Forms 
(»cAe'a   dvSpiSv)  out  of  which    Epic  poetry  grew ;    also   the  ^g^"^. 
hymenaeus,  or  marriage-chant,  and  the  threnus,  or  dirge, —  ed  by 
both,  in   Homer's  time,  already  secular,  and  sung  by  the 
people, — no  longer,  as  in  ancient  India,  parts  of  a  ritual,  to 
be  sung  by  priests. 

3.     Down  to  about  700  B.C.  the  kind  of  poetry  which  Epic 
•we  call  '  Epic ' 2  was  the  only  literature  which  the  Greeks  Poetry- 
possessed.     The  idea  of  '  epic '  poetry,  as  a  species,  could 
not  exist  until  'lyric'  (or,  as  the  Greeks  said,  'melic')  had 
taken  a  distinct  form.     Then,  later  still,  came  'dramatic' 
poetry.     '  Epic  poetry,'  as  the  Greeks  of  the  fourth  century 
.B.C.   understood  it,   was   defined   by   its   differences   from 
'lyric'   and    'dramatic.'     As   distinguished  from   'lyric,'  it 
meant   poetry  which  was  recited,  not  sung  to  music.    As 

1  (a)  To  the  Thracian  group  belong,  among  others,  Orpheus  (=the 
Indian   Ribhu, — the  Ribhus  figuring   in   the   Indian   hymns  as   great 
artificers,  the  first  men  who  were  made  immortal), — Musaeus,  Eumolpus, 
Thamyris ;   (6)  to  the  Southern  group,  Olen  of  Lycia,  Chrysothemis  of 
Crete,  Philammon  of  Delphi,  Pamphos  of  Attica, — makers  of  hymns  to 
Apollo,  Demeter,  etc. ;  (c)  to  the  Asiatic  group,  Olympus,  the  pupil  of 
Marsyas,   and   Hyagnis,   who   made   hymns   to   Cybele.     These  were 
merely  so  many  names  of  ancient  but  vague  prestige,  to  which  later 
composers  attached  their  own  work, — being  in  the  old  hymn-literature 
what  the  Boeotian  Bakis  was  in  the  traditional  oracular  lore. 

2  Aristotle  never  uses  the  word  ^TTI/COS,  which  seems  not  to  occur 
before  the  later  Alexandrian  age.     He  calls  Epic  Poetry  TJ  eTroiroita,  or 
(as  contrasted  with  drama),  77  di-qyrjfMTiKrj  xal  tv  ft^rpif)  fjn/j.-ifriKij  (Poet. 
23),  i.e.  narrative  poetry  which  imitates  by  means  of  verse  only  (without 
help  from  TO  irparreiv). 

I 2 


4  HOMER.  [CH.   I. 

distinguished  from  '  dramatic,'  it  meant  poetry  which  merely 
narrated.  It  is  well  to  begin  by  observing  the  broad 
characteristics  which  Homer  presents  to  the  mind  of 
Aristotle. 

Aristotle  4.  Aristotle's  conception  of  an  epic  poem  demands,  first, 
merH°"  t^iat  ^  snou^  have  a  dignified  theme ;  next,  that  it  should 
form  an  organic  whole, — i.e.,  it  must  have  unity ;  and,  with- 
in this  unity,  there  must  be  an  ordered  progress.  The 
events  must  form  a  connected  series,  and  must  conduce  to 
a  common  end.  Thus  the  unity  proper  to  an  epic  is  not 
merely  such  unity  as  a  history  may  owe  to  the  fact  that  all 
the  events  which  it  relates  are  comprised  in  a  certain  period 
of  time.  The  Iliad  does  not  treat  the  whole  Trojan  War, 
but  a  part  of  it,  diversifying  this  by  episodes.  The  Odyssey 
does  not  attempt  to  relate  everything  that  ever  happened 
to  Odysseus.  The  superiority  of  Homer's  judgment  in  this 
respect,  as  compared  with  that  of  some  other  epic  poets, 
may  be  illustrated  (Aristotle  remarks)  by  a  dramatic  test. 
The  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  would  not  furnish  more  than  one 
tragedy  apiece,  or  two  at  the  most.  But  no  fewer  than 
eight  dramas  had  been  carved  out  of  the  '  Little  Iliad] — 
an  epic  chronicle  of  the  events  from  the  death  of  Achilles 
to  the  fall  of  Troy.  The  special  merits  for  which 
Aristotle  praises  Homer  are  chiefly  the  following: — (i) 
Homer  combines  unity  with  variety1:  (2)  he  is  excellent 
both  in  diction  and  in  sentiment :  (3)  he  keeps  himself 
in  the  background,— telling  his  story  as  much  as  possible 
by  the  actions  and  words  of  the  persons  themselves,  and 
marking  their  characters  well :  (4)  he  is  artistic  in  fiction — 
boldly  using  the  improbable  or  supernatural  element, — for 
which  epic  poetry  gives  more  scope  than  drama, — but 

1  It  is  an  inherent  defect  of  an  epic,  as  compared  with  a  tragedy, 
(Aristotle  remarks,)  that  it  must  have  less  unity.  If  the  epic  poet's, 
theme  is  strictly  one,  his  poem  will  appear  either  curt  or  spun-out 
(jivovpos — vdapjs).  Homer  has  overcome  this  difficulty  as  far  as  possible : 
Tavra  TO  TroiTjuara  a\Jviart)K.(.v  cis  frdtxerai  dpiffra,  /cat  6  TI  ndXiffra  //taj. 
7T/5a£ews  /jd/j.riffls  kari.  (Poet.  26). 


CH.  I.]  GENERAL   CHARACTERISTICS.  5 

with  a  charm  so  skilful  that  the  illusion  is  not  broken'. 
Aristotle's  remarks  on  Homer  bring  out  the  singularity 
in  the  history  of  Greek  poetry,  that  it  begins  with  master- 
pieces. He  regards  Homer  as  at  once  the  earliest  of  poets 
and  the  most  finished  of  epic  artists*.  This  estimate  is 
subject,  indeed,  to  one  qualification.  Aristotle  apparently 
regarded  the  length  of  the  Homeric  epics  as  somewhat  too 
great  for  the  ideal  of  epic  symmetry8. 

At  the  outset  it  is  necessary  that  the  reader  should  have 
clearly  before  his  mind  the  general  type  of  structure  exhi- 
bited by  each  of  the  two  epics.  The  subjoined  sketch 
will  serve  to  show  this,  while  in  details  it  will  be  found 
convenient  for  subsequent  reference. 

5.  The  Iliad  owes  its  unity,  not  to  the  person  of  Structure 
Achilles,but  to  his  wrath.  His  withdrawal  from  the  Greek  host 
leaves  Greek  heroism  more  nearly  on  a  level  with  Trojan, 
and  so  admits  of  the  battle-scenes  which  describe  a  doubtful 
war.  Hence  the  framework  of  the  poem  is  necessarily  elastic. 
As  a  help  to  the  memory,  the  story  of  the  Iliad  may  be 


1  Poet.  24  SeSidaxe  5£  fwXiffra  "OfJ.ijpos  Kal  roi)s  aXXovs  ^etjdeiv  ('to 
feign')  ws  5e?.     Aristotle  instances  TO.  ei>  '05v<r<Tfiq.  d\oya  ra  irepl  TJJV 
^Kdecriv,  —  the  account  of  the  landing  of  Odysseus  in  Ithaca,  —  where  the 
Homeric  charm  disguises  the  improbability  (ro?s  tfXXots  ayaOols  d<f>avi£ei. 

rjSvVtaV  TO  OTOTTOJ'). 

2  After  mentioning  the  several  requirements  of  epic  poetry,  he  says  — 
oh  a.Tra.ffu>"0/j.T)pos  K^xPrlTai  Ka^  ffttrit  Kal  t/ccwws  (Poet.  24). 

3  Poet.  c.  24,  with  Twining's  note  (vol.  n.  p.  331).     The  limit  of 
<lue  length  for  an  epic  is  that  it  should  be  possible  for  us  to  '  comprehend 
the  beginning  and  the  end  in  one  view.'     This  means,  to  read,  or  hear, 
the  whole  epic,  without  discomfort,  in  one  day,  —  as  is  shown  by  the 
comparison  with  'tragedies  set  for  one  hearing.'    And,  for  this  purpose, 
the  epic  should  be  'shorter  than  the  ancient'  epics,  —  a  phrase  which 
must  include  Homer.     (The  Iliad  contains  15,693  lines;  the  Odyssey, 
1  2,  no.)       I   do   not   know   whether  it  has   been    pointed    out  how 
interesting  is  this  indication  of  Aristotle's  feeling,  in  relation  to  the 
modern  view  that  the  epics  have  grown  by  additions  beyond  their 
first  design.     Surmising  nothing  of  the  kind,  and  profoundly  admiring 
Homer,  the  Greek  critic  yet  cannot  altogether  disguise  the  offence  to 
his  sense  of  measure. 


6  HOMER.  [CH.  I. 

divided  into  three  parts.  The  first  ends  with  book  ix., 
when  the  Greeks  sue  to  Achilles,  and  are  repulsed.  The 
second  ends  with  book  xvin.,  the  last  in  which  he  remains 
aloof  from  the  war. 

The  asterisks  denote  those  books  in  which  Achilles 
himself  appears.  The  Greek  titles  of  the  books,  given  in 
brackets,  have  come  down  from  the  Alexandrian  age. 

*I.  (A.  AOI/J.OS.  M-fjvis.)  In  the  tenth  year  of  the  war,  Apollo 
plagues  the  Greeks,  because  the  daughter  of  Chryses,  his  priest,  has 
been  taken  by  Agamemnon ;  who,  being  required  to  restore  her, 
wrongs  Achilles  by  depriving  him  of  his  captive,  the  maiden  Brisei's. 
Thereupon  Achilles  retires  from  the  war,  and  Zeus  swears  to  Thetis, 
the  hero's  mother,  that  the  Greeks  shall  rue  this  wrong  done  to  her  son. 

II.  (B.  "Oveipos.     Boiwrta  17  KardXoyos  TUV  veuf.)     Zeus  sends  the 
Dream-god  to  the  sleeping  Agamemnon,  and  beguiles  him  to  marshal 
all  his  host  for  battle.     An  assembly  of  the  Greek  army  shows  that  the 
general  voice  is  for  going  back  to  Greece — but  at  last  the  army  is 
rallied. — Catalogue  of  the  Greek  and  Trojan  forces  (vv.  484 — 877). 

III.  (Y.  "OpKot.     TeixouKoiria.     HdptSos  KO.I  MeveXoov  /uopo/tax'a.) 
The  Trojan  Paris  having  challenged  the  Greek  Menelaus  to  decide  the 
war  by  single  combat,  a  truce  is  made  between  the  armies.     Helen  and 
Priam  survey  the  Greek  host  from  the  walls  of  Troy.     In  the  single 
combat,  Aphrodite  saves  Paris. 

IV.  (A.  'Op/dup  crvyxvffl*-   'A.ya/jL^/ja>ovos  ^Trnru>\fiffis.)     The  Trojan 
Pandarus  breaks  the   truce.     Agamemnon  marshals   the   Greek  host. 
The  armies  join  battle. 

V.  (E.  Ato/xij5ous  apiffreta.)     The  prowess  of  the  Greek  Diomede; 
who  makes  great  slaughter  of  the   Trojans,  and,  helped  by  Athene, 
wounds  even  Aphrodite  and  Ares. 

VI.  (Z.  "Bicro/jos  KO.I  'Avdpo/j.axns  6fj.i\ia.)    Diomede  and  the  Lycian 
Glaucus  (a  Trojan  ally)  are  about  to  fight,  when  they  recognise  each 
other  as  hereditary  guest-friends,  and  part  in  amity. — Hector  goes  from 
the  battle  to  Troy,  and  before  sallying  out  again,  bids  farewell  to  his  wife 
Andromache. 

VII.  (H.  "E/cTO/Joj  Kal  Afavros  /j.ovofj.axia-    NfKpuvcu>alp«rts.)  Single 
combat  of  Hector  and  Ajax.     Burying  of  the  dead.     The  Greeks  build 
a  wall  to  protect  their  camp  by  the  Hellespont. 

VIII.  (6.  Ko'Xoj  fMxtl — 'the  interrupted  fight' — broken  off  by  the 
gods  at  v.  485.)     Zeus,  on  Olympus,  commands  the  gods  to  help  neither 
side;  and  then,  going  down  to  Ida,  gives  the  Trojans  the  advantage 
over  the  Greeks.     At  Hector's  instance  the  Trojans  bivouac   on  the 
battle-field. 


CH.  I.]  GENERAL   CHARACTERISTICS. 


*IX.  (I.  npefffitla  irpds  'AxtXX&x.  Airul.)  Agamemnon  sends 
envoys  (Odysseus,  Ajax,  Phoenix)  by  night  to  Achilles,  offering  to 
restore  Briseis  and  to  make  amends  ;  but  Achilles  rejects  the 
offer. 

X.  (K.  AoXw^cia.)  Odysseus  and  Diomede,  going  by  night  to- 
wards the  Trojan  camp,  slay  Dolon,  a  Trojan  spy  ;  then  they  slay  the 
sleeping  Rhesus,  chief  of  the  Thracians,  and  take  his  horses. 

*XI.  (A.  'Aya^/jivovo^  dpiffrda.)  Agamemnon  does  great  deeds, 
but  in  vain;  many  of  the  leading  Greek  chiefs  are  disabled;  and 
Patroclus,  sent  by  Achilles  to  ask  about  the  wounded  physician 
Machaon,  learns  that  the  plight  of  the  Greeks  is  desperate. 

XII.  (M.    TetxoA"*x*a-)      The    Trojans,   led    by    Hector,   break 
through  the  wall  of  the  Greek  camp. 

XIII.  (N.    Ma%?7  M  rais  vavalv.)     Zeus  having  turned  his  eyes 
for  a  while  away  from  the  Trojan  plain,  the  sea-god  Poseidon,  watching 
from  the  peak  of  Samothrace,  seizes   the   moment  to  encourage  the 
Greeks.     The  Cretan  Idomeneus  does  great  deeds. 

XIV.  (2J.    At6s  airarr)  —  i.e.  the  trick  played  on  Zeus.)     The  Sleep- 
god,  and  Hera,  lull  Zeus  to  slumber  on  Ida.     Poseidon  urges  on  the 
Greeks,  and  the  Trojan  Hector  is  wounded. 

XV.  (0.    IlaX/wfts   irapd  rtav   veun>  —  not  a   correct   title,   for    the 
Trojans   are   not   routed.)     Zeus   awakens   on   Ida.     At  his   bidding, 
Apollo  puts  new  strength  into  Hector.     The  Trojan  host  presses  again 
on  the  Greek  ships  :  Ajax  valorously  defends  them. 

*XVI.  (II.  IlarpoKXeia.)  Patroclus  intercedes  for  the  Greeks 
with  Achilles  ;  who  lends  him  his  armour.  In  the  guise  of  his  friend, 
Patroclus  takes  the  field,  and  drives  the  Trojans  from  the  ships  ;  and  at 
last  is  slain  by  Hector. 

XVII.  (P.  ~M.evf\dov  dpurrela.)  The  Greeks  and  Trojans  con- 
tend for  the  corpse  of  Patroclus.  Menelaus  does  great  deeds. 

*XVIII.  (2.  'Oir\oiroita.)  Achilles  learns  the  death  of  Patroclus, 
and  makes  moan  for  him  ;  at  the  sound  whereof,  Thetis  rises  from  the 
sea,  and  comes  to  her  son.  She  persuades  the  god  of  fire,  Hephaestus, 
to  make  new  armour  for  Achilles.  The  shield  wrought  by  Hephaestus 
is  described. 

*XIX.  (T.  M^piSos  &w6ppr)<rt.s.)  Achilles  renounces  his  wrath. 
He  is  reconciled  to  Agamemnon  before  the  assembly  of  the  Greek 
host.  He  makes  ready  to  go  forth  to  war  with  them;  the  horses  are 
yoked  to  his  chariot;  when  the  horse  Xanthus  speaks  with  human 
voice,  and  foretells  the  doom  of  Achilles. 

*XX.  (T.  Qeofiaxia.)  The  gods  come  down  from  Olympus  to 
join  in  the  fight  on  the  Trojan  plain  —  some  with  the  Greeks,  some  with 
the  Trojans.  Achilles  fights  with  Aeneas,  who  is  saved  by  Poseidon; 
and  with  Hector,  who  is  saved  by  Apollo. 


8  HOMER.  LCH-  1 

*XXI.  (<!>.  Mct^i;  Trapairord/jiios.)  The  River-god  Scamander 
fights  with  Achilles,  who  is  saved  by  Hephaestus. 

*XXII.  (X.  "E/cro/oos  dvaipeo-is.)  Achilles  fights  with  Hector,  and 
chases  him  thrice  round  the  walls  of  Troy.  Zeus  weighs  in  golden 
scales  the  lots  of  Achilles  and  Hector.  Hector  is  doomed  to  die: 
Apollo  deserts  him,  while  Athene  encourages  Achilles.  Achilles  slays 
Hector. 

*XXIII.  (*-.  TA0Xa  M  Uarp&icXv.)  The  spirit  of  Patroclus 
appears  to  Achilles,  and  craves  burial  for  the  corpse  :  which  is  burned 
on  a  great  pyre,  with  slaying  of  many  victims  :  twelve  Trojan  captives 
are  slain,  and  cast  on  the  pyre.  Games  follow,  in  honour  of  the 
funeral. 

*XXIV.  (0.  "EKTO/JOJ  \vrpa.)  As  Achilles  daily  drags  the  corpse 
of  Hector  round  the  barrow  of  Patroclus,  Apollo  pleads  with  the  gods, 
and  Zeus  stirs  up  Priam  to  go  and  ransom  the  body  of  his  son.  The 
god  Hermes,  in  disguise,  conducts  the  aged  king  across  the  plain; 
Achilles  receives  him  courteously,  and  accepts  the  ransom  ;  and  Priam 
goes  back  to  Troy  with  the  corpse  of  Hector,  to  be  mourned  and 
buried. 

Structure  5.  The  Odyssey  owes  its  unity  to  the  person  of  Odysseus, 
Odyssey.  and  this  unity  is  necessarily  of  a  closer  kind  than  exists  in 
the  Iliad.  The  epic  may  conveniently  be  divided  into 
groups  of  four  books,  (i)  I.  —  iv.  The  adventures  of  Tele- 
machus.  (2)  v.  —  vm.  The  adventures  of  Odysseus,  after 
leaving  Calypso's  isle,  till  he  reaches  Phaeacia.  (3)  ix.  — 
xn.  The  previous  adventures  of  Odysseus.  (4)  xm.  —  xvi. 
Odysseus  at  the  hut  of  Eumaeus  in  Ithaca.  (5)  xvn.  — 
xx.  The  return  of  Odysseus  to  his  house.  (6)  xxi.  — 
xxiv.  The  vengeance  on  the  suitors,  and  the  re-establish- 
ment of  Odysseus  in  his  realm. 


I.  (a.     Qfuv   dyopd.     'A.6i]vg.s  irapalveffis    irpos  frjX^/j.axov.)     It    is 
the  tenth  year  since  the  fall  of  Troy.     Odysseus  is  now  detained  by  the 
nymph  Calypso  in  Ogygia,  an  isle  of  the  far  west;  while  his  wife, 
Penelope,  in  Ithaca,  is  beset  by  suitors,  lawless  men,  who  feast  riotously 
in  the  house,  as  though  it  were  their  own.     In  the  council  of  the  gods, 
Athene  urges  that  Poseidon,  the  sea-god,   has  vexed  Odysseus  long 
enough  ;  and  she  herself  goes  to  Ithaca,  and  stirs  up  Telemachus  to  go 
in  search  of  his  father. 

II.  (/3.    'I0a.KT)(rluv   dyopd.      T^Xe/wiX011    airoS^ta).      Telemachus 
calls  an  assembly  of  the  Ithacans,  and  appeals  to  them  to  protect  his 


CH.   I.]  GENERAL   CHARACTERISTICS.  9 

rights;  but  the  suitors  mock  him,  and  nothing  is  done.  Athene, 
however,  disguised  as  a  chief  named  Mentor,  gets  him  a  ship,  wherein 
Telemachus,  with  the  supposed  Mentor,  sails  for  Pylus  in  Elis. 

III.  (y.    Td  if  ntfXy.)     Nestor,  the  old  king  of  Pylus,  receives 
them  hospitably.     At  the  banquet,  '  Mentor'  vanishes,  and  Nestor  per- 
ceives that  their  guest  has  been  the  goddess  Athene,  to  whom  he  pours 
a  drink-offering.    Then  Telemachus  sets  out  for  Sparta,  with  Nestor's 
son,  Peisistratus. 

IV.  (8.    To  tv  A.a.KfdalfMvi.)    Menelaus,  king  of  Sparta,  receives 
them,  and  his  wife  Helen  knows  Telemachus  by  his  likeness  to  his 
father.     Having  learned  that  his  father  is  in  Calypso's  isle  (Menelaus 
had  been  told  this  by  the  seer  Proteus  in  Egypt),  Telemachus  prepares 
to  return  to  Ithaca.     Meanwhile  Penelope  hears  of  a  plot  by  the  suitors 
to  slay  her  son;  but  Athene  comforts  her  in  a  dream. 

V.  (e.     Ka\v\f/ovs  avrpov.    'OSvfffftus  <rx«5(a.)     The   gods  at  last 
send  Hermes,  and  tell  Calypso  to  let  Odysseus  go;   and  she  obeys. 
Odysseus  builds  himself  a  flat-bottomed  vessel  (not  simply  what  we 
call  'a  raft'),  and  puts  to  sea.    On  the  i8th  day  his  old  enemy  Poseidon 
espies  him,  and  wrecks  him;  but  the  sea-goddess  Ino  ( =  Leucothea) 
gives  him  a  veil  which  buoys  him  up,  and  at  last  he  comes  ashore  at 
the  mouth  of  a  river  in  Scheria,  the  land  of  a  great  sea-faring  folk,  the 
Phaeacians. 

VI.  (f.    '05i»<rer^u>s  a0i£is  e/y  <I>a/aKas.)     Nausicaa,  daughter  of  the 
Phaeacian  king  Alcinous,  comes  down  to  the  river  with  her  handmaids, 
to  wash  linen ;  and  having  done  this,  they  play  at  ball.    Their  voices 
awake  the  sleeping  Odysseus;   he  entreats  their  pity;  and  Nausicaa 
shows  him  the  way  to  her  father's  city. 

VII.  (17.    'OSvfffftws  etffodos  irpos  'AX/aVow.)     King  Alcinous  and 
his  queen,  Arete,  receive  Odysseus  in  their  splendid  palace,  and  he 
tells  his  adventures  since  he  left  Calypso's  isle. 

VIII.  (6.     "OSuffo^ws  ffvffraffis  irpos  <J>a/a/cas.)     Alcinous  calls  an 
assembly  of  the  Phaeacians,  and  it  is  resolved  that  the  stranger  shall 
have  a  ship  to  take  him  home.     Games  are  held.    Then  at  a  feast 
given  by  the  king,  the  minstrel  Demodocus  sings  of  Troy :  the  stranger 
weeps ;  and  the  king  presses  him  to  tell  his  story. 

[Books   IX. — XII.   were  called   collectively  "AX/thou  diroXoyoi,   the 
'narratives  to  Alcinous'.] 

IX.  (».     KuftXtiireto.)     Odysseus   tells  how,  on  leaving  Troy,  he 
came  to  the  Cicones  (in  Thrace);  afterwards  to  the  Lotus-eaters;  and 
then  to  the  land   of  the  Cyclopes,  where  he   put-  out  the  one  eye 
of  Polyphemus. 

X.  (K.     Td  Tfpl   Al6\ov  teal  A.ai<rTpvy6vwv  Ka.1  KlpKys.)     His  ad- 
ventures with   the  wind -god  Aeolus;  with  the  Laestrygonians ;   and 
with  the  enchantress  Circe. 


10  HOMER.  [CH.  I. 

XI.  (X.     N&wa.)     How  he  went  down  to  Hades,  the  place  of  the 
dead,  and  spoke  with  many  spirits  of  the  departed. 

XII.  (fj..     Zeiprjves,    SicMXa,    Xa/3i;/35is,     /36ej  'HX/ov.)      His    ad- 
ventures with  the  Seirens,  and  Scylla  and  Charybdis;  and  how  his 
comrades  ate  the  sacred  oxen  of  the  sun  in  the  isle  Thrinacria;  wherefore 
they  all  perished  at  sea,  and  he  came  alone  to  Calypso's  isle,  Ogygia. 

XIII.  (v.    'OSwrcr^ws  dva.Tr\ovs  Trapo  Qaiaicuv  ical  a0t£is  eh'WdKtjv. ) 
The  Phaeacians  take  Odysseus  back  to  Ithaca;    and,  as  they  are  re- 
turning, Poseidon  turns  their  ship  to  stone.    Athene  appears  to  Odysseus 
in  Ithaca;  changes  him  into  the  likeness  of  an  old  beggar-man;  and 
counsels  him  how  he  shall  slay  the  suitors. 

XIV.  (£.     'OSucnr^ws   TT/DOS   'Efi/j.aiov   ojj.i\la.)     Odysseus   converses 
with  his  old  swine-herd  Eumaeus,  who  knows  him  not. 

XV.  (o.     T^Xe/xdxou  TT/JOS  ES^aiov  a$i|is.)     Telemachus  returns  to 
Ithaca,  and  seeks  the  dwelling  of  Eumaeus. 

XVI.  (IT.    'Avayvupifffjios  'Qdu<rff{ws    VTTO    TrjXe/u.axou.)     Odysseus, 
temporarily  restored  to  his  proper  form  by  Athene  (cp.  xni.),  reveals 
himself  to  his  son.     They  concert  a  plan  for  slaying  the  suitors. 

XVII.  (p.     TijXefj.dxov  tirdvoSos  eh  'WdKrjv — i.e.  to  the  town-  he 
has  been  in  the  isle  since  xv.)     Telemachus  goes  to  the  town.     He 
keeps  his  father's  return  a  secret  from  his  mother,  telling  her  only  what 
he  had   heard  abroad.     Odysseus — once  more  the   old  beggar-man — 
comes  to  the  house  with  Eumaeus;  the  dog  Argos  knows  his  disguised 
master,  and  welcomes  him,  and  dies. 

XVIII.  (a.    'Qdvfffftus  ical  "Ipov  irvyfj-rj.)     The  disguised  Odysseus 
has  a  fight  with   Irus,   a  beggar   living  on  the  alms  of  the  suitors; 
who  continue  their  revelry  and  insolence. 

XIX.  (T.    'OSvfffftw;  Kal  Hfjve\ow^  6/uXfa.    To,  vhrTpa.)    Penelope 
speaks   with   the  poor  stranger,   whom  she  knows  not  for  her  lord, 
and  tells  him  how  she  has  baffled  the  suitors  by  delay.     She  promised 
to  make  her  choice  as  soon  as  she  should  have  woven  a  web,  and  every 
night  she  undid  the  day's  weaving.      Eurycleia,  the  old  nurse,  washes 
the  stranger's  feet;  by  a  scar  she  knows  Odysseus;  who  charges  her  to 
be  secret. 

XX.  (u.     Ta   TT/jo  T??S  /jivriffTypcKpovla.!.)     Odysseus  is  troubled  in 
soul,  as  he  lies  awake  in  the  porch  of  the  house ;  Athene  appears  and 
comforts  him.     While  the  suitors  are  revelling,  the  seer  Theoclymenus, 
who  has  second-sight,  foresees  their  doom  in  a  dread  vision:  but  they 
heed  him  not. 

XXI.  (<f>.     T6£ow  Oevis.)     Penelope   proposes  to  the   suitors  that 
they  should  try  their  skill  with  a  bow  which  the  hero  Eurytus  had  once 
given  to   Odysseus.     Not  one   of  them  can   even   bend   it;  but   the 
stranger  (Odysseus)  strings  it  with  ease,  and  sends  an  arrow  through  the 
holes  in  twelve  axe-heads,  set  up  one  behind  another. 


CH.  I.J  GENERAL   CHARACTERISTICS.  II 

XXII.  (x-     Mv7}ffTr)po<t>oi>ta.)     At  that  instant  Odysseus  casts  off 
his  disguise;  with  his  son,  and  two  trusty  followers,  he  falls  on  the 
suitors  in  the  palace-hall,  and  slays  them:  and  the  faithless  serving- 
maids  of  the  house  are  hanged. 

XXIII.  (^.    'OSvfffftus  viro   n^eXoVr/s  dvayvuptff^.)     The  nurse 
Eurycleia  (cp.  xix.)  tells  Penelope  that  Odysseus  has  come  home ;  the 
wife  recognises  her  lord,  and  hears  from  him  the  sum  of  his  wanderings. 
Odysseus  resolves  to  withdraw  for  a  while  to  a  farm  some  way  from  the 
town,  to  see  his  aged  father,  Laertes. 

XXIV.  (w.     N^/ci/to  Sfvrtpa.     SwovSal.)     The  god  Hermes  leads 
the  shades  of  the  suitors  down  to  Hades.     Odysseus  finds  Laertes 
working  in  his  garden,  and  reveals  himself  to  his  father.     The  Ithacans 
bury  the  suitors,  and,  after  debate,  resolve  to  avenge  them;  but  are 
worsted  by  Odysseus  and  his  following,  and  submit.     Then  the  goddess 
Athene  makes  peace  and  a  solemn  covenant  between  the  king  Odysseus 
and  his  lieges  in  Ithaca. 


Epics,  like  dramas,  are  classed  by  Aristotle  as  'simple' 
or  'complex.'  The  Iliad  is  'simple'  (aVA^),  because  its 
action,  like  that  of  the  Prometheus  Vinctus,  has  a  plain  and 
direct  course.  The  Odyssey  is  'complex'  (TreptTreTrAey/xeV*;), 
because  the  plot  is  complicated  by  the  disguises  of  Odysseus, 
and  the  'recognition,'  like  that  in  the  Oedipus  Tyrannus,  is 
accompanied  by  a  sudden  reversal  of  the  situation  (irepi- 
TreTcia).  Again,  the  Iliad  is  'pathetic'  (Tra^Ti/o;),  because 
the  mainspring  of  the  hero's  action  throughout  is  passion,  — 
wrath  against  Agamemnon,  grief  for  Patroclus,  and  a  fierce 
desire  to  avenge  him.  The  Odyssey  is  'ethic'  (yOua]), 
because  the  character  of  the  patient  and  resourceful  hero  is 
displayed  in  action  guided  by  reason  '. 


1  Arist.  Poet.  24.  This  view  —  that  Aristotle's 
refer  to  the  dominant  motive  of  action  in  the  two  epics  respectively  — 
has  been  lately  developed  by  G.  Giinther,  Gnindziige  der  tragischen 
Jfunst,  pp.  538  —  543  (Leipsic,  1885).  It  seems  the  most  probable.  If 
ijfliKij  meant  merely,  'strong  in  portraiture  of  character,'  it  would  apply 
to  the  Iliad  no  less  than  to  the  Odyssey.  And  if  vaffrjriKri  meant, 
as  Twining  and  others  take  it,  'disastrous,'  —  i.e.  'containing  tragic 
events,'  —  it  would  apply  to  the  Odyssey  —  with  its  destruction  of  the 
hero's  comrades,  and  its  slaughter  of  the  suitors  —  hardly  less  than 
to  the  Iliad. 


12  HOMER.  [CH.  I. 

Homeric  7.  The  capital  distinction  of  Homeric  poetry  is  that  it 
fts^emT  ^as  a^  ^ie  freshness  and  simplicity  of  a  primitive  age, — all 
ral  the  charm  which  we  associate  with  the  'childhood  of  the 

stamp,  world' ;  while  on  the  other  hand  it  has  completely  surmounted 
the  rudeness  of  form,  the  struggle  of  thought  with  language, 
the  tendency  to  grotesque  or  ignoble  modes  of  speech,  the 
incapacity  for  equable  maintenance  of  a  high  level,  which 
belong  to  the  primitive  stage  in  literature.  This  general 
character  is  that  which  Mr  Matthew  Arnold  defines,  in  his 
excellent  lectures  on  translating  Homer,  when  he  says  that 
Homer's  style  has  four  principal  qualities  ;  it  is  rapid  ;  plain 
in  thought;  plain  in  diction;  and  noble1.  The  English 
reader  will  perhaps  see  this  most  clearly  if  he  compares 
Homer  with  our  old  ballads  on  the  one  hand,  and,  on  the 
other,  with  a  form  of  poetry  which  shares,  indeed,  the  name 
and  form  of  'epic,'  but  is  of  an  essentially  different  nature 
from  the  Homeric, — namely,  the  literary  epic,  such  as  the 
Aeneid  or  Paradise  Lost. 

8.  Before  instituting  any  comparison  between  the  bal- 
lads and  Homer,  we  must  guard  ourselves  by  marking  its 
limit.  The  old  English  and  Scottish  ballads,  such  as  those  in 
Percy's  '  Reliques '  and  other  collections,  belong  to  a  much 
ruder  stage  of  poetical  development  than  the  Iliad  and  the 
Odyssey.  In  Greek  there  are  no  remains  of  the  stage  pro- 
perly corresponding  to  our  ballads ;  as  in  English,  on  the 
other  hand,  we  have  no  Homer.  The  ballad '  proper  was 
a  narrative  poem,  while  the  'song'  was  the  vehicle  of  per- 
sonal feeling ;  and  though  the  line  was  not  rigidly  drawn, 
still  the  balladist,  by  tradition  and  instinct,  confined  himself, 
as  a  rule,  to  simple  narrative.  The  '  ballad '  and  the 
'song'  were  contemporary  products,  whereas  the  Greek  epic 
existed  before  Greece  had  any  properly  lyric  poetry ;  and 

1  He  remarks  that,  as  a  translator  of  Homer,  Cowper  fails  to  be 
rapid ;  Pope,  to  be  plain  in  diction  ;  and  Chapman  (imbued  with  the 
'conceits'  of  the  Elizabethan  age)  to  be  plain  in  thought, — Homeric 
though  he  is  in  so  much, — 'plain-spoken,  fresh,  vigorous,  to  a  certain 
degree,  rapid.' 


CH.  I.]  GENERAL   CHARACTERISTICS.  13 

the  Homeric  epic,  while  it  is  mainly  a  narrative,  is  also 
rich  in  the  germs  of  the  unborn  lyric.  Such  are  those 
utterances  of  thought  and  sentiment  concerning  human 
life, — utterances  often  so  deeply  suggestive  and  pathetic, — 
which  fall  from  the  lips  of  the  Homeric  persons,  and 
which  contribute  to  give  the  Homeric  poems  their  profound 
and  universal  human  interest, — a  moral  and  philosophic 
significance,  over  and  above  their  splendid  pictures  of 
action.  As  a  medium  of  poetry,  the  relatively  poor  and 
narrow  form  in  which  the  balladist  worked  cannot  for  an 
instant  be  compared  with  Homer's  spacious  and  various 
epic.  But  we  may  illustrate  certain  Homeric  qualities  by 
inquiring  how  far  they  are,  or  are  not,  present  in  the 
ballads. 

We  find,  then,  that  the  ballads  share  with  Homer  the  Homeric 
first  three  qualities  named  above ;  they  are  rapid  in  move-  fn^e"1 
ment ;  plain  in  thought ;  and  plain  in  diction.     There  are  ballads^ 
moments,  further,  when  to  these  three  qualities  they  add 
the  fourth  quality, — nobleness ;  and  it  is   then  that  they 
become,  in  some  degree,  Homeric.     Such  moments  usually 
occur  under  one  of  two  conditions ;  viz.,  when  the  ballad 
describes   a  crisis  of  warlike  action,  or  when  it  describes 
a  vehement  outburst  of  natural  emotion.     An  example  of 
the  first  kind  is  the  part  of  Chevy  Chase  where  '  a  squire 
of  Northumberland'  warns  the  Percy's  men  that  the  Douglas 
is  coming : 

'Leave  off  the  brittling  of  the  deer!'   he  said, — 

'  And  to  your  bows  look  ye  take  good  heed  ! 
1  For  sith  ye  were  o'  your  mothers  born 

1  Had  ye  never  so  mickle  need.' 

The  doughty  Douglas  on  a  steed 

He  rode  at  his  men  beforne; 
His  armour  glitter'd  as  did  a  glede : 

A  bolder  baron  never  was  born. 

'Tell  me  what  men  ye  are,'  he  says, — 

'Or  whose  men  that  ye  be  ! 
'Who  gave  you  leave  to  hunt  in  this 

4  Cheviot  Chace  in  the  spite  of  me?' 


14  HOMER.  [CH.   t. 

That  is  rapid ;  it  is  direct  in  thought  and  in  language  j 
further,  it  has  a  martial  dignity  of  its  own ;  and,  uniting 
these  qualities,  it  produces  an  effect  on  the  mind  somewhat 
analogous  to  that  which  is  produced  by  the  warlike  scenes 
of  the  Iliad.  Consider,  again,  the  description  in  the  Iliad 
of  Achilles  in  his  first  passion  of  grief,  for  the  death  of 
Patroclus, — Antilochus  having  just  brought  the  news  : — 

'  Thus  spake  he,  and  a  black  cloud  of  grief  enwrapped  Achilles,  and 
with  both  hands  he  took  dark  dust,  and  poured  it  over  his  head,  and 
denied  his  comely  face,  and  on  his  fragrant  doublet  black  ashes  fell, 
and  himself  in  the  dust  lay  mighty  and  mightily  fallen,  and  with  his 
own  hands  tore  and  marred  his  hair.' 

In  the  ballad  of  'Jamie  Telfer,'  Wat  of  Harden,  a 
chieftain  of  Teviotside,  sees  his  son  Willie  killed  before  his 
eyes  in  a  Border  foray.  A  chivalrous  nature,  in  its  first 
agony  of  grief  and  anger,  is  portrayed  here  also.  The  stanzas 
are  ennobled  by  the  intensity  of  natural  pathos,  and,  despite 
all  difference  of  form,  are  thus  far  Homeric  in  spirit : — 

But  Willie  was  stricken  ower  the  head, 

And  thro'  the  knapscap1  the  sword  has  gane ; 
And   Harden  grat  for  very  rage, 

When  Willie  on  the  ground  lay  slane. 
But  he's  taen  aff  his  gude  steel  cap, 

And  thrice  he's  waved  it  in  the  air; 
The  Dinlay  snaws  were  ne'er  mair  white 

Nor  the  lyart  locks  of  Harden's  hair. 
'Revenge!     Revenge!'    auld  Wat   'gan  cry; 

'  Fye,  lads,  lay  on  them  cruellie, 
'  We'll  ne'er  see  Teviotside  again, 

'  Or  Willie's  death  revenged  sail  be2.' 

But  now  take  the  ballad  on  its  ordinary  level  of 
narrative>  where  it  is  not  raised  by  any  such  glow  of  passion, 
and  compare  it  with  some  analogous  part  of  Homer.  In 
the  Odyssey  King  Alcinous  suggests  to  his  noble  guest 

1  head-piece. — 'Dinlay'  (v.  7),  a  Liddesdale  hill. — 'lyart'  (v.  8)  = 
grey. 

2  Prof.  Veitch's  History  and  Poetry  of  the  Scottish  Border  (Mac- 
Lehose,  1878),  from  which  I  take  this  (p.  397),  would  furnish  many 
other  fine  examples  :  see  esp.  ch.  xi. 


CH.  I.]  GENERAL   CHARACTERISTICS.  15 

(whom  he  does  not  yet  know  to  be  Odysseus)  that  he 
should  stay  in  Phaeacia,  and  marry  his  daughter  Nau- 
sicaa : — 

•Would  to  father  Zeus,  and  Athene,  and  Apollo,  would  that  so 
goodly  a  man  as  thou  art,  and  like-minded  with  me,  thou  wouldst  wed 
my  daughter,  and  be  called  my  son,  here  abiding  :  so  would  I  give  thee 
home  and  wealth,  if  thou  wouldst  stay  of  thine  own  will :  but  against 
thy  will  shall  none  of  the  Phaeacians  keep  thee :  never  be  this  well- 
pleasing  in  the  eyes  of  father  Zeus.' 

Absolutely  simple  and  direct  as  that  is,  it  is  also  perfect 
in  refinement  and  in  nobleness. 

King  Estmere,  in  the  old  ballad  which  bears  his  name, 
wishes  to  marry  King  Adland's  daughter;  and  Adler, 
Estmere's  brother,  announces  this  to  Adland : — 

'You  have  a  daughter,'  said  Adler  young, — 

'  Men  call  her  bright  and  sheen ; 
'  My  brother  would  marry  her  to  his  wife, 

1  Of  England  to  be  Queen.' 

King  Adland  replies : — 

'Yesterday  was  at  my  dear  daughter 

'  Sir  Bremor,  the  King  of  Spain ; 
'And  then  she  nicked  him  with  Nay: 

'I  fear  she'll  do  you  the  same.' 

I  take  this  example,  because  the  difference  between  the 
tone  of  King  Adland  and  of  King  Alcinous  seems  a  not 
unfair  measure  of  the  average  difference  between  the  ballad, 
when  it  is  on  its  ordinary  level,  and  Homer.  It  might  be 
questioned  whether  Mr  Matthew  Arnold  is  quite  just  to  the 
balladists  in  quoting  as  a  typical  verse, 

When  the  tinker  did  dine,  he  had  plenty  of  wine : 

but,  at  any  rate,  the  main  point  is  indisputable;  the  balladist 
is  altogether  a  ruder  workman,  and  also  stands  on  a  much 
lower  intellectual  level,  than  the  Homeric  poet ;  whose  style 
varies  appropriately  to  his  theme,  but  always  and  every- 
where maintains  its  noble  grace,  maintains  it,  too,  without 
the  slightest  stiffness,  or  visible  effort ;  and  whose  thoughts 
on  human  life  show  a  finer  and  deeper  insight  than  that  of 


1 6  HOMER.  [CH.  I. 

the  baliadists.  We  have  been  glancing  at  our  old  ballads 
here  as  representing  early  folk-song,  made  by  the  people  for 
the  people.  The  result  is  to  show  that  the  Homeric  poetry 
is  something  maturer  and  higher.  Early  folk-song  has  its 
moments  of  elevation,  and  in  these  comes  nearer  to  Homer; 
but  its  general  level  is  immeasurably  lower. 

9.  It  is  still  more  important,  perhaps,  to  perceive  the 
broad  difference  between  the  Homeric  epic  and  the  literary 
epic  of  later  ages.  The  literary  epic  is  composed,  in  an 
age  of  advanced  civilisation,  by  a  learned  poet.  His  taste 
and  style  have  been  influenced  by  the  writings  of  many 
poets  before  him.  He  commands  the  historical  and  anti- 
quarian literature  suitable  to  his  design.  He  composes 
with  a  view  to  cultivated  readers,  who  will  feel  the  more 
recondite  charms  of  style,  and  will  understand  the  literary 
allusions.  The  general  character  of  the  literary  epic  is  well 
illustrated  by  the  great  passage  of  Paradise  Lost  where 
Milton  is  saying  how  far  'beyond  compare  of  mortal  prowess' 
were  the  legions  of  the  fallen  Archangel : — 
And  now  his  heart 

Distends  with  pride,  and,  hardening  in  his  strength, 

Glories;    for  never,  since  created  Man, 

Met  such  embodied  force,  as  named  with  these, 

Could  merit  more  than  that  small  infantry 

Warred  on  by  cranes — though  all  the  giant  brood 

Of  Phlegra  with  the  heroic  race  were  joined 

That  fought  at  Thebes  and  Ilium,  on  each  side 

Mixed  with  auxiliar  gods;    and  what  resounds 

In  fable  or  romance  of  Uther's  son, 

Begirt  with  British  and  Armoric  knights ; 

And  all  who  since,  baptized  or  infidel, 

Jousted  in  Aspramont,  or  Montalban, 

Damasco,  or  Morocco,  or  Trebisond, 

Or  whom  Biserta  sent  from  Afric  shore 

When  Charlemain  with  all  his  peerage  fell 

By  Fontarabia. 

It  is  a  single  and  a  simple  thought— the  exceeding  might 
of  Satan's  followers — that  Milton  here  enforces  by  example 
after  example.  A  large  range  of  literature  is  laid  under 


CH.  I.]  GENERAL   CHARACTERISTICS.  17 

contribution, — the  classical  poets,  the  Arthurian  cycle,  the 
Italian  romances  of  chivalry,  the  French  legends  of  Charle- 
magne. The  lost  angels  are  measured  against  the  Giants, 
the  Greek  heroes,  the  Knights  of  the  Round  Table,  the 
champions  of  the  Cross  or  the  Crescent,  and  the  paladins 
slain  at  Roncesvalles.  Every  name  is  a  literary  reminiscence. 
By  the  time  that '  Aspramont'  is  reached,  we  begin  to  feel  that 
the  progress  of  the  enumeration  is  no  longer  adding  anything 
to  our  conception  of  prowess ;  we  begin  to  be  aware  that,  in 
these  splendid  verses,  the  poet  is  exhibiting  his  erudition. 
But  this  characteristic  of  the  literary  epic, — its  proneness  to 
employ  the  resources  of  learning  for  the  production  of  a 
cumulative  effect, — is  only  one  of  the  traits  which  are  ex- 
emplified by  the  passage.  Homer  would  not  have  said,  as 
Milton  does,  that,  in  comparison  with  the  exiled  Spirits,  all 
the  chivalry  of  human  story  was  no  better  than  'that  small 
infantry  warred  on  by  cranes;'  Homer  would  have  said 
that  it  was  no  better  than  the  Pygmies.  Homer  says  plainly 
and  directly  what  he  means ;  the  literary  epic  likes  to  say 
it  allusively ;  and  observe  the  turn  of  Milton's  expression, 
— '•that  small  infantry;'  i.e.,  'the  small  infantry  which,  of 
course,  you  remember  in  the  third  book  of  the  Iliad.' 
Lastly,  remark  Milton's  phrase,  'since  created  Man,' 
meaning,  'since  the  creation  of  Man.'  The  idiom,  so 
familiar  in  Greek  and  Latin,  is  not  English,  and  so  it  gives 
a  learned  air  to  the  style;  the  poet  is  at  once  felt  to  be  a 
scholar,  and  the  poem  to  be  a  work  of  the  study.  Homer's 
language  is  everywhere  noble,  but  then  it  is  also  natural. 
So,  within  the  compass  of  these  few  lines,  three  characteris-  Summary, 
tics  may  be  seen  which  broadly  distinguish  the  literary  epic 
from  Homer.  It  is  learnedly  elaborate,  while  Homer  is 
spontaneous;  it  is  apt  to  be  allusive,  while  Homer  is 
direct ;  in  language  it  is  often  artificially  subtle,  while 
Homer,  though  noble,  is  plain1.  The  Homeric  quality 

1  'The  unrivalled  clearness  and  straightforwardness  of  his  thinking' 
is  a  point  in  which   Mr  Matthew  Arnold  finds  an  affinity  between 
Homer  and  Voltaire.     Like  Voltaire,  Homer  'keeps  to  one  thought  at 
J-  2 


1 8  HOMER.  [CH.   I. 

which  the  literary  epic  best  attains  is  nobleness ;  yet  the 
nobleness  is  of  a  different  cast ;  it  is  a  grave  majesty, 
of  stately  but  somewhat  monotonous  strain;  whereas  the 
noble  manner  of  Homer  lends  itself  with  equal  ease  to 
every  mood  of  human  life;  it  can  render  the  vehemence  of 
dark  passions,  or  reflect  the  splendour  of  battle,  but  it  is 
not  less  truly  itself  in  shedding  a  sunny  or  tender  grace 
over  the  gentlest  or  homeliest  scenes, — in  short,  it  is  every- 
where the  nobleness  of  nature. 

Dryden         IO-    ^  was  once  a  commonplace  of  criticism  to  compare 
and  Ad-  Homer  with  the  great  literary  epics  as  if  they  were  works 
Homer,  of  the  same  order.     Dryden's  lines  are  famous;  — 
Three  poets,  in  three  distant  ages  born, 
Greece,  Italy,  and  England  did  adorn: 
The  first  in  loftiness  of  thought  surpassed; 
The  next  in  majesty;   in  both  the  last. 
The  force  of  Nature  could  no  further  go ; 
To  make  a  third  she  joined  the  former  two1. 

Here,  classing  the  three  poets  together,  Dryden  is  con- 
tent with  distinguishing  Homer  as  sublime,  Virgil  as  majestic, 
and  Milton  as  both.  Addison,  again,  compares  the  Iliad, 
the  Aeneid,  and  Paradise  Lost  in  respect  of  plot,  characters, 
sentiments,  and  language, — without  indicating  any  sense  of 
the  generic  difference  which  separates  the  Iliad  from  the 
other  two.  To  ignore  this  difference,  however,  is  even 
more  unjust  to  Virgil  and  to  Milton  than  it  is  to  Homer. 
The  epic  poet  in  a  literary  age  cannot  escape  from  his  age, 
and  the  primary  condition  of  justly  estimating  his  poetry  is 
to  recognise  that  it  is  not  a  voice  from  the  primitive 
world;  but  then  he  has  a  task  of  his  own,  such  as  was 
not  laid  on  the  author  of  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey,  he 
has  to  deal  with  great  masses  of  more  or  less  intractable 

a  time,  and  puts  that  thought  forth  in  its  complete  natural  plainness, 
instead  of  being  led  away  from  it  by  some  fancy,  striking  him  in  con- 
nection with  it.' 

1  They  were  first  printed  under  White's  portrait  of  Milton  in  the 
edition  of  Paradise  Lost  published  by  Tonson  in  1688.  Masson's 
edition  of  Milton,  I.  20. 


CH.  I.]  GENERAL   CHARACTERISTICS.  rp 

materials, — to  select  from  them, — to  organise  the  selected 
parts, — and  to  animate  them  with  a  vital  breath;  he  has, 
in  poetry,  a  constructive  function  analogous  to  that  which, 
in  prose,  is  performed  by  a  Livy  or  a  Gibbon ;  and  who  does 
not  know  with  what  marvellous  power  this  task  has  been 
achieved — in  different  modes  and  in  different  degrees — 
by  the  genius  of  Virgil,  of  Dante,  and  of  Milton  ?  Then, 
towards  the  close  of  the  last  century,  the  origin  of  the 
Homeric  poems  began  to  be  critically  discussed, — and 
the  new  tendency  was  to  make  an  assumption  exactly  op- 
posite to  that  on  which  Addison's  criticism  rested.  Wolf  The 
protested  against  comparing  Homer  with  the  literary  epic 
poets,  such  as  Milton.  The  fashion  now  was  to  compare 
Homer  with  the  makers  of  primitive  folk-songs  or  ballads. 
But,  as  we  have  seen,  this  was  a  mistake  in  the  opposite 
direction.  The  first  step  towards  appreciating  Homer's 
place  in  literature  has  been  gained  if  we  clearly  perceive 
wherein  Homer  mainly  differs  from  Chevy  Chase  on  the  one 
hand,  and  from  Paradise  Lost  on  the  other. 

ii.  At  this  point  we  may  refer,  for  illustration,  to  an  Homer 
analogy  which  our  own  literature  offers, — one  which,  however  \Valter 
imperfect,  is  in  several  respects  suggestive, — the  analogy  of  Scott. 
Walter  Scott's  poetry.  The  relation  of  Scott  to  Homer 
may  be  viewed  from  two  different  sides.  If  a  direct  literary 
comparison  is  made, — if  the  form  of  Scott's  poetry  is  com- 
pared with  that  of  Homer's, — the  contrast  is  more  evident 
than  the  likeness.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  look  for  an 
analogy,  and  not  for  a  direct  resemblance, — if  Scott's 
relation  to  our  old  balladists  is  compared  with  Homer's 
relation  to  a  ruder  age  of  song, — if  the  spirit  in  which  Scott 
re-animates  the  age  of  chivalry  is  compared  with  the  spirit 
in  which  Homer  re-animates  the  age  of  Achaean  heroism, 
— then  a  genuine  kinship  is  discerned.  For  the  English 
student  of  Homer,  there  could  scarcely  be  a  more  in- 
teresting exercise  than  to  estimate  this  unlikeness  and  this 
analogy ;  it  is  one  which  tests  our  appreciation  of  Homer 
in  several  ways ;  and,  it  may  be  added,  it  is  one  which 

2 — 2 


20  HOMER.  [CH.   I. 

can  be  attempted  with  equal  profit  by  those  who  entertain 
dissimilar  views  as  to  the  precise  poetical  rank  of  Scott. 
To  begin  with  the  unlikeness,  Scott's  poetry  was  formed 

on    the    old    Border    ballad,    modified   by   the    medieval 
The 
element  romance;   in  the  note  prefixed  to  Marmion  he  calls  that 

of  con-  poem  a  '  Romantic  Tale,'  and  disclaims  all  idea  of  essaying 
'epic  composition.'  When,  therefore,  Mr  Matthew  Arnold 
says  of  Scott's  style  that  'it  is,  tried  by  the  highest 
standards,  a  bastard  epic  style,'  it  is  only  just  to  re- 
member that  Scott  would  himself  have  deprecated  the 
application  of  those  'highest  standards.'  But  it  is  true 
that,  as  the  same  critic  says,  Scott's  style  has  an  inherent 
inability  for  maintaining  the  Homeric  level  of  nobleness ; 
it  necessarily  shares  that  defect  with  the  ballad  form  on 
which  it  is  founded.  MLAraold  h.as  quoted  these  >lmes 
(from  Marmion  vi.  29)  as  typical  of  Scott :  A. 

v      I  ( 

Tunstall  lies  dead  upon  the  field, 
His  life-blood  stains  the  spotless  shield : 
Edmund  is  down — my  life  is  reft — 
The  Admiral  alone  is  left. 

He  makes  two  remarks  upon  them, — that  the  movement, 
though  rapid,  is  jerky;  and  that  this  external  trait  points 
to  a  deeper  spiritual  diversity,  which  the  lines  also  reveal, — 
Scott's  incapacity  for  the  grand  manner  of  Homer.  This 
example  is,  however,  utterly  unfair  to  Scott.  First,  the 
'jerkiness'  of  these  lines  does  not  represent  the  normal 
movement  of  Scott's  verse  where  it  is  most  Homeric, — 
they  belong  to  the  broken  utterances  of  the  wounded 
Marmion,  as,  recovering  from  his  swoon,  he  hurriedly  tells 
the  disastrous  tidings  of  the  field  to  those  around  him, — 
their  abruptness  is  purposed1 : — next,  the  whole  passage  is 
infinitely  far  from  representing  Scott's  nearest  approach  to 

1  A  critic  having  observed  this,  Mr  Arnold  rejoins  ('Last  Words  on 
translating  Homer,'  p.  67)  that  'the  best  art,  having  to  represent  the 
death  of  a  hero,  does  not  set  about  imitating  his  dying  noises.'  But 
Marmion's  words  are  not  'dying  noises';  and  poetry  is  surely  per- 
mitted to  represent  abrupt  speech. 


CH.  I.]  GENERAL   CHARACTERISTICS.  21 

the  manner  of  Homer.  Adequately  to  represent  that,  we 
might  rather  quote,  from  the  same  Canto,  the  magnificent 
description  of  Flodden,  beginning — 

At  length  the  freshening  western  blast 
Aside  the  shroud  of  battle  cast ; 
And,  first,  the  ridge  of  mingled  spears 
Above  the  brightening  cloud  appears, 
And  in  the  smoke  the  pennons  flew, 
As  in  the  storm  the  white  sea-mew — 

or,  from  the  Lay,  William  of  Deloraine's  ride  from  Brank- 
some  to  Melrose ;  or  Dacre's  defiance  to  the  warriors  of 
Scotland — 

'  And  let  them  come, '  fierce  Dacre  cried  ; 
'  For  soon  yon  crest,  my  father's  pride, 
'  That  swept  the  shores  of  Judah's  sea, 
'  And  waved  in  gales  of  Galilee, 
'  From  Branksome's  highest  towers  display'd, 
'  Shall  mock  the  rescue's  lingering  aid ' — 

or,  from  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,  a  farewell  not  unworthy  to 
be  compared  with  the  parting  of  Hector  and  Andromache 
in  the  sixth  book  of  the  Iliad, — the  passage  in  which 
Duncan's  widow  sees  her  young  son  go  forth  to  be  the 
champion  of  their  house  : — 

In  haste  the  stripling  to  his  side 
His  father's  dirk  and  broadsword  tied; 
But  when  he  saw  his  mother's  eye 
Watch  him  in  speechless  agony, 
Back  to  her  open'd  arms  he  flew, 
Press'd  on  her  lips  a  fond  adieu — 
'Alas!'   she  sobb'd, — 'and  yet,  be  gone, 
'  And  speed  thee  forth,  like  Duncan's  son ! ' 
One  look  he  cast  upon  the  bier, 
Dash'd  from  his  eye  the  gathering  tear, 
Breathed  deep  to  clear  his  labouring  breast, 
And  toss'd  aloft  his  bonnet  crest; 
Then,  like  the  high-bred  colt,  when,  freed, 
First  he  essays  his  fire  and  speed, 
He  vanish'd,  and  o'er  moor  and  moss 
Sped  forward  with  the  Fiery  Cross. 


22  HOMER.  [CH.  I. 

Or — to  take  but  one  instance  more — the  lines,  picturing 
the  career  of  the  Fiery  Cross,  in  which  Homer's  favourite 
image  of  a  fire  raging  in  the  hills  is  joined  to  much  of 
Homer's  magic  in  the  use  of  local  names — 

Not  faster  o'er  thy  heathery  braes, 
Balquhidder,  speeds  the  midnight  blaze, 
Rushing  in  conflagration  strong 
Thy  deep  ravines  and  dells  along, 
Wrapping  thy  cliffs  in  purple  glow, 
And  reddening  the  dark  lakes  below ; 
Nor  faster  speeds  it,   nor  so  far 
As  o'er  thy  heaths  the  voice  of  war.... 

But  it  is  not  by  a  few  detached  verses  that  either  the 
unlikeness  or  the  affinity  between  Homer  and  Scott  can  be 
measured:  both  must  be  judged  by  the  spirit  of  the  whole. 
The  unlikeness,  as  we  have  seen,  depends  on  the  inherent 
limitations,  not  merely  of  the  ballad  form,  but  of  the  ballad 
tone ;  it  may  be  briefly  expressed  in  the  proposition  that 
a  translation  of  Homer  into  the  metres  and  style  of  Scott 
could  never  be  successful. 
The  ele-  The  affinity,  on  the  other  hand,  is  profounder  and 

ment  of  more   essential.     On   any   view   as   to   the   origin   of   the 
analogy.  J  ° 

Homeric   poems,   it   is   certain   that   the  age  of  Achaean 

prowess  lay  behind  the  Homeric  poet,  but  was  still  so  near 
to  him — either  in  time,  or  through  tradition — that  he  could 
realise  it  with  entire  vividness.  Scott  stood  in  a  similar 
relation  to  a  past  age  of  warlike  and  romantic  adventure. 
This  was  due  to  the  peculiar  condition  of  Scotland  at  the 
date  of  his  birth  in  1771.  Those  literary  influences  which 
tend  to  make  the  difference  between  an  Aeneid  and  an  Iliad 
were  in  full  force,  indeed,  at  Edinburgh,  but  they  were 
little  felt,  as  yet,  in  Scotland  at  large.  The  memories  and 
feelings  of  an  earlier  time  still  survived,  with  extraordinary 
freshness,  in  the  life  of  the  people.  Old  men  could  still 
tell  of  stirring  deeds  associated  with  the  risings  of  1745  and 
1715  ;  in  many  a  Scottish  home  some  episode  of  stubborn 
devotion  was  dear  to  the  descendants  of  those  who  had 


CH.  I.]  GENERAL   CHARACTERISTICS.  23 

died  for  the  Covenant ;  and,  in  the  Border  country,  ballad 
and  legend  still  enabled  men  to  feel  the  mental  atmosphere 
of  yet  more  distant  days,  when  the  bale-fire,  signalling 
some  inroad  from  the  south,  used  to  flash  from  peel  to 
peel  along  the  valleys  of  the  Ettrick  and  the  Yarrow, 
the  Teviot  and  the  Tweed.  From  childhood  Scott  had 
breathed  this  atmosphere  and  had  known  these  scenes. 
His  strong  genius  was  in  the  largest  sense  Homeric,  as  being 
in  natural  sympathy  with  the  heroic.  Thus,  by  a  com- 
bined felicity  of  moment  and  temperament,  he  was  in 
touch  with  that  past  Those  features  of  his  poetical  style 
which  are  most  liable  to  academic  criticism  are  just  those 
which  show  how  far  he  had  escaped  from  what  is  most 
anti-Homeric  in  an  age  of  books.  As  Principal  Shairp  has 
well  said,  'It  is  this  spontaneity,  this  naturalness  of  treat- 
ment, this  absence  of  effort,  which  marks  out  Scott's  poetry 
as  belonging  essentially  to  the  popular,  and  having  little 
in  common  with  the  literary,  epic1.'  Nowhere  else,  per-  Summary, 
haps,  in  modern  literature  could  any  one  be  found  who, 
in  an  equal  measure  with  Scott,  has  united  these  three 
conditions  of  a  true  spiritual  analogy  to  Homer; — living 
realisation  of  a  past  heroic  age ;  a  genius  in  native  sympathy 
with  the  heroic;  and  a  manner  which  joins  the  spontaneous 
impulse  of  the  balladist  to  a  higher  order  of  art  and 
intellect. 

12.     Fresh,  direct,  and  noble,  the  Homeric  mode  of  pre-  The 
senting  life  has  been  singularly  potent  in  tracing  certain  types  Homeric 
of  character  which  ever  since  have  stood  out  clearly  before  ters. 
the  imagination  of  the  world.     Such,  in  the  first  place,  are 
the  heroes  of  the  two  epics, — Achilles,  the  type  of  heroic 
might,  violent   in   anger  and   in   sorrow,  capable   also  of 
chivalrous  and  tender  compassion;   Odysseus,  the  type  of 
resourceful  intelligence  joined  to  heroic  endurance, — one  in 
whom  the  power  of  Homer  is  seen  even  better,  perhaps, 
than  in  Achilles,  since  the  debased  Odysseus  of  later  Greek 
poetry  never  succeeded  in  effacing  the  nobler  image  of  his 
1  Aspects  of  Poetry,  ch.  XIII.  p.  394. 


Rr 


24  HOMER.  [CH.  I. 

Homeric  original.  Such,  again,  are  the  Homeric  types  of 
women,  so  remarkable  for  true  and  fine  insight — Andro- 
mache, the  young  wife  and  mother,  who,  in  losing  Hector, 
must  lose  all;  Penelope,  loyal  under  hard  trial  to  her 
long-absent  lord ;  the  Helen  of  the  Iliad,  remorseful, 
•  .  clear-sighted,  keenly  sensitive  to  any  kindness  shown  her 

\N  at  Troy;  the  Helen  of  the  Odyssey,  restored  to  honour  in 

her  home  at  Sparta;  the  maiden  Nausicaa,  so  beautiful 
in  the  dawning  promise  of  a  noble  womanhood, — perfect 
in  her  delicacy,  her  grace,  and  her  generous  courage. 
From  Agamemnon  to  Thersites  there  is  no  prominent 
agent  in  the  Homeric  epic  on  whom  Homer  has  not  set 
the  stamp  of  some  quality  which  we  can  feel  as  distinctive. 
The  divine  types  of  character  are  marked  as  clearly,  and  in 
the  same  manner,  as  the  human; — Zeus,  the  imperious  but 
genial  ruler  of  the  Olympian  family, — intolerant  of  com- 
peting might,  but  manageable  through  his  affections  or  his 
appetites;  Hera,  his  wife,  who  never  loses  sight  of  her 
great  aim, — the  advancement  of  the  Greek  cause, — but 
whose  sometimes  mutinous  petulance  is  tempered  by  a 
feminine  perception  of  the  point  at  which  her  lord's 
character  requires  that  she  should  take  refuge  in  blandish- 
ments; Apollo,  the  minister  of  death,  the  prophet,  active  in 
upholding  the  decrees  of  his  father  Zeus,  and  never  at 
discord  with  him  ;  Athene,  who,  unlike  her  brother  Apollo, 
is  often  opposed  to  the  purposes  of  Zeus,— at  once  a  mighty 
goddess  of  war,  and  the  goddess  who  presides  over  art 
and  industry. 

13.  Of  all  such  Homeric  beings,  divine  or  human,  we  per- 
ceive the  dominant  qualities  and  the  general  tendencies;  but 
they  are  not  individualised  beyond  a  certain  point.  Perhaps 
the  persons  whom  we  seem  to  know  best  are  the  intensely 
human  Zeus  and  Hera,  who  furnish  the  only  Homeric 
example  of  domestic  wrangling.  The  epic  form,  as  com- 
pared with  the  dramatic,  is  necessarily  at  a  disadvantage  for 
the  subtler  delineation  of  character;  but,  further,  it  was  the 
special  bent  of  the  Greek  genius,  in  poetry  as  in  plastic  art, 


CH.  I.]  GENERAL    CHARACTERISTICS.  25 

to  aim  at  lucid  expression  of  primary  motives,  and  to  refrain 
from  multiplying  individual  traits  which  might  interfere  with 
their  effect;  a  tendency  which  is  seen  even  in  Greek 
drama.  This  typical  quality  in  Homeric  portraiture  has 
been  one  secret  of  its  universal  impressiveness.  The 
Homeric  outlines  are  in  each  case  brilliantly  distinct, 
while  they  leave  to  the  reader  a  certain  liberty  of  private 
conception;  he  can  fill  them  in  so  as  to  satisfy  his  own 
ideal :  and  this  is  one  reason  for  the  ease  with  which 
Homer's  truth  to  the  essential  facts  of  human  life  has 
been  recognised  by  every  age  and  race. 

14.  The  speeches  of  the  Homeric  persons  illustrate  this.  Their  ex- 
They  faithfully  express  the  general  attributes  of  the  { 
speakers;  but — supposing  that  we  already  know  what 
these  attributes  are — we  seldom  feel  that  the  speech  has 
given  us  fresh  insight  of  a  closer  kind :  what  we  do 
feel  is  rather  that  we  have  heard  a  speech  thoroughly 
appropriate  to  a  given  type  of  person  in  a  given  situation. 
As  an  example,  we  might  refer  to  the  great  speeches  in 
the  ninth  Iliad,  where  Odysseus,  Ajax,  and  Phoenix  come 
as  envoys  from  the  Greeks  to  Achilles,  and  he — in  perhaps 
the  most  splendid  example  of  Homeric  eloquence — rejects 
their  prayer.  Oratorical  power,  and  the  faculty  of  debate 

^/ 

— as  a  master  of  both  has  observed — are  there  seen 
in  their  highest  form.  The  speeches  are  also  admirably 
suited  to  the  type  of  character  which  each  speaker  repre- 
sents; but  they  add  none  of  those  minor  traits  by  which 
the  secrets  of  individuality  are  revealed. 

A  similar  limit  is  observable  in  those  cases  where  a  or  in 
person's  inward  thoughts  are  clothed  in  words,  and  given 
as  a  speech  which  he  addresses  to  his  own  soul.  These 
audible  thoughts  are  usually  in  the  nature  of  comments 
on  the  main  point  of  the  situation,  and  are  such  as  might 
have  been  made  by  a  sympathetic  bystander;  they  are  com- 
parable to  the  utterances  of  the  Chorus  in  Greek  Tragedy1. 

1  The  regular  formula  is,  6x.0ijffas  5*  apa  etire  irpos  ov  /urya\T?ro/>a  BV^MV 
(in  which  ox^«.  'troubled,'  is  a  general  term,  denoting,  according  to 


26  HOMER.  [CH.  I. 

Divine  15-  '^e  profound  human  interest  of  the  Homeric  poems 

and  human  is  enhanced  by  another  feature  in  which  they  stand  altogether 
alone — their  mode  of  blending  divine  and  human  action. 
The  Homeric  gods  meet  mortals  in  hand-to-hand  fight,  they 
wound  them  or  are  wounded  by  them,  they  aid  or  thwart 
them,  advise  or  deceive  them,  in  visible  presence;  and  it  is 
the  unique  distinction  of  Homer  that  all  this  is  managed 
without  ever  making  the  deities  less  than  divine,  or  the  mortals 
more  than  human.  Homer  alone  has  known  how  to  create 
a  sphere  of  action  in  which  man's  nature  is  constantly 
challenged  to  prove  its  highest  capacity  by  the  direct 
pressure  of  a  supernatural  force,  while  the  gods  are  not 
lowered,  but  exalted,  by  meeting  men  on  common  ground. 
If  we  would  feel  how  the  Homeric  communications  between 
heaven  and  earth  reconcile  perfect  ease  and  grace  of  inter- 
course with  celestial  dignity  and  religious  awe,  let  us 
cbntrast  them  with  the  abrupt  interventions  of  the  deus 
ex  machina  in  some  plays  of  Euripides,  or,  again,  with 
such  a  relationship  of  gods  and  men  as  the  literary  epic 
is  apt  to  represent, — the  Aeneid,  for  example,  where  Jupiter 
is  little  more  than  an  idealised  Roman  Senator,  and  the 
agency  of  Olympus  generally,  instead  of  being  vitally 
interwoven  with  the  organism  of  the  poem,  is  rather  a 
mechanical  adjunct. 

Homeric  1 6.  A  literary  estimate  of  Homer  owes  particular  notice 
"se  °f  to  one  abounding  source  of  variety,  vividness,  and  beauty. 
The  Homeric  use  of  simile  is  so  characteristic,  it  plays  so 
important  a  part  in  the  poems,  and  it  has  so  largely  in- 
fluenced later  poetry,  that  it  is  well  worthy  of  attentive 
consideration.  The  first  point  to  observe  is  that  Homeric 
simile  is  not  a  mere  ornament.  It  serves  to  introduce 

circumstances,  grief,  anxiety,  terror  or  anger).  It  is  used  in  the  Iliad 
of  Achilles  (18.  5,20.  343,  21.  53),  Hector  (22.  98),  Odysseus  (11.403), 
Menelaus  (17.  90),  Agenor  (21.  552).  In  the  Odyssey  it  occurs  thrice, 
always  of  Odysseus  (5.  298,  355,  407).  The  menacing  thoughts  of 
Poseidon  against  Odysseus  are  twice  introduced  by  a  similar  formula 
(Kivr/ffas  Si  icapr)  irporl  Sv  fJ.v8riera.TO  6vfj.6v,  5.  285.  376). 


CH.   I.]  GENERAL   CHARACTERISTICS.  27 

something  which  Homer  desires  to  render  exceptionally 
impressive, — some  moment,  it  may  be,  of  peculiarly  in- 
tense action, — some  sight,  or  sound,  full  of  wonder,  or 
terror,  or  pity, — in  a  word,  something  great.  He  wishes  to 
prepare  us  for  it  by  first  describing  something  similar,  only 
more  familiar,  which  he  feels  sure  of  being  able  to  make 
us  see  clearly.  Thus  the  Homeric  similes  are  responses  to 
a  demand  made  on  the  narrator  by  the  course  of  the 
narrative;  they  indicate  a  spontaneous  glow  of  poetical 
energy;  and  consequently  their  occurrence  seems  as  natural 
as  their  effect  is  powerful.  In  the  eighteenth  book  of 
the  Iliad  Athene  invests  Achilles  with  the  aegis,  and 
encircles  his  head  with  'a  golden  cloud,'  from  which  she 
makes  a  flame  to  blaze.  This  gives  occasion  for  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  similes  in  Homer  (//.  18.  207) : — 

As  from  an  island  city,  seen  afar, 

The  smoke  goes  up  to  heaven,  when  foes  besiege; 

And  all  day  long  in  grievous  battle  strive 

The  leaguered  townsmen  from  their  city  wall: 

But  soon,  at  set  of  sun,  blaze  after  blaze, 

Flame  forth  the  beacon-fires,  and  high  the  glare 

Shoots  up,   for  all  that  dwell  around  to  see, 

That  they  may  come  with  ships  to  aid  their  stress : 

Such  light  blazed  heavenwards  from  Achilles'  head1. 

The  comparison  is  between  the  flame  flashing  from  the 
golden  cloud  above  the  head  of  Achilles  and  the  beacon- 
fire  which,  in  the  gloaming,  flares  out  beneath  its  column 
of  smoke.  The  circumstances  of  the  island  siege  serve 
as  framework  for  the  image  of  the  beacon.  This  is  fre- 
quently the  case  in  Homeric  simile.  When  Homer  com- 
pares A  to  B,  he  will  often  add  details  concerning  B  which 
have  no  bearing  on  the  comparison.  For  instance,  when 

1  This  version  is  from  an  admirable  translation  of  '  The  Similes  of 
Homer's  Iliad'  by  the  Rev.  W.  C.  Green,  late  Fellow  of  King's 
College,  Cambridge  (Longmans,  1877).  In  v.  211  I  have  ventured 
to  substitute  'Flame  forth'  (^Xey&towrtv)  for  'Are  lit,'  because  I  con 
ceive  the  fires  to  have  been  lit  before. 


28 


HOMER. 


[CH.   I. 


the  sea-god  Poseidon  soars  into   the  air  from  the  Trojan 
plain,  he  is  compared  to  a  hawk  (//.  13.  62), — 

That  from  a  beetling  brow  of  rock 
Launched  in  mid  air  forth  dashes  to  pursue 
Some  lesser  bird  along  the  plain  below  : 

but  Poseidon  is  not  pursuing  any  one;  the  point  of  simi- 
litude is  solely  the  speed  through  the  air.  Such  admission 
Irrelevant  of  irrelevant  detail  might  seem  foreign  to  that  direct  aim  at 
detail.  vividness  which  is  the  ruling  motive  of  Homeric  simile;  but 
it  is,  in  fact,  only  another  expression  of  it.  If  A  is  to 
be  made  clearer  by  means  of  JB,  B  itself  must  be  clearly 
seen;  and  therefore  Homer  takes  care  that  B  shall  never 
remain  abstract  or  shadowy ;  he  invests  it  with  enough 
of  detail  to  place  a  concrete  image  before  the  mind.  The 
hawk,  for  example,  to  whom  Poseidon  is  likened,  is  more 
vividly  conceived  when  it  is  described  as  doing  a  particular 
act  characteristic  of  a  hawk, — viz.  pursuing  another  bird. 

'  Secure  of  the  main  likeness,'  Pope  says, '  Homer  makes 
no  scruple  to  play  with  the  circumstances ; '  but,  while  this 
is  true  in  the  sense  just  noticed,  we  must  remember  that  the 
Homeric  'playing  with  circumstances '  is  never  an  aimless 
luxuriance.  The  poet's  delight  in  a  picture,  and  the  Hellenic 
love  of  clear-cut  form,  are  certainly  present ;  but  both  are 
subordinate  to  a  sense  that  the  object  which  furnishes  the 
simile  must  be  made  distinct  before  the  simile  itself  can  be 
effective.  In  this  respect  Dante  sometimes  offers  a  striking 
resemblance  to  Homer.  It  is  generally  believed  that  Dante 
had  no  direct  knowledge  of  Homer ;  but,  even  if  it  had 
been  otherwise,  the  particular  resemblance  of  which  we  are 
now  speaking  is  manifestly  due  to  a  natural  affinity  of 
spirit, — to  the  earnest  desire  of  vividness, — and  not  to 
literary  imitation.  Dante  compares  the  boiling  pitch  of 
Malebolge  to  the  boiling  pitch  in  the  Arsenal  of  Venice 
(Inf.  XXL).  And,  in  order  that  the  Arsenal  may  be  more 
clearly  placed  before  our  minds,  he  rapidly  mentions  the 
various  tasks  with  which  the  workers  in  it  are  busy, — 
how  one  man  is  building  a  new  boat,  while  another  is 


CH.    l.J  GENERAL   CHARACTERISTICS.  29 

caulking  an  old  one, — how  one  is  hammering  at  the  prow, 
another  at  the  poop, — how  others  are  making  oars,  or 
twisting  ropes,  while  others  mend  mizen  or  mainsail. 
These  labours  have  no  analogy  to  the  sufferings  of  the 
lost  in  the  Infernal  Lake ;  but  they  help  us  to  see  the  very 
place  where  the  pitch  is  boiling  at  Venice;  and  the  de- 
scription of  them  is  therefore  thoroughly  Homeric.  A  Contrast 
contrast  is  afforded  by  the  Hebraic  similes  of  the  Old  jj"brew 
Testament,  which,  as  a  rule,  tersely  mark  the  point  of  poetry, 
comparison,  and  dispense  with  non-essential  details.  There 
are,  of  course,  exceptions;  as  when  Job,  comparing  the 
inconstancy  of  friends  to  the  failure  of  water,  makes  such 
failure  more  vivid — in  a  truly  Homeric  manner — by  de- 
scribing the  disappointment  of  wanderers  in  the  desert, 
who  reach  springs  only  to  find  them  dry : — '  the  caravans 
of  Tema  look  for  them,  the  companies  of  Sheba  rest  their 
hope  on  them :  they  are  ashamed  of  their  trust,  they  come 
hither  and  blush  '  (Job  vi.  15 — 20). 

1 7.  The  Iliad  contains  about  a  hundred  and  eighty  de-  Why 
tailed  similes, — the  Odyssey,  barely  forty;  and  the  proportion  ^Tin5 
is  such  as  might  be  expected  when  the  broad  difference  the 
between  the  two  epics  is  considered.  Full  of  adventure 
and  marvel  as  is  the  Odyssey,  it  has  far  fewer  moments 
of  concentrated  excitement  than  are  presented  by  the  war- 
like action  of  the  Iliad;  in  particular,  it  lacks  all  those 
numerous  occasions  for  simile  which  in  the  Iliad  are  given 
by  the  movements  of  masses.  But  the  spirit  of  the  com- 
parisons is  essentially  the  same.  When  Charybdis  swallows 
the  raft  of  Odysseus,  he  saves  himself  by  clutching  a  wild 
fig-tree  which  overhangs  the  whirlpool.  There  he  clings, 
'like  a  bat,'  waiting  till  the  depths  of  the  vortex  shall  give 
up  his  raft;  and  the  keenness  of  his  prolonged  suspense 
is  emphasised  by  a  simile.  'At  the  hour  when  a  man  rises 
up  from  the  assembly,  and  goes  to  supper, — one  who 
judges  the  many  quarrels  of  the  young  men  that  seek  to 
him  for  law, — at  that  same  hour  those  timbers  came  forth 
to  view  from  out  Charybdis'  (Od.  12.  439)'. 

1  Lest  it  be  objected   that  these   three  verses,   Od.   n.  439 — 441, 


30  HOMER.  [CH.   I. 

Range  of        1 8      The  range  of  Homeric  simile  is  as  wide  as  the  life 

t!ie.,        known   to  the  poet.     Some   of  the   grandest   images   are 
similes.  .  . 

suggested   by  fire — especially,   fire   raging   in   a   mountain 

forest — by  torrent,  snowstorm,  lightning,  or  warring  winds. 
Among  animals,  the  lion  is  remarkable  as  furnishing  no 
fewer  than  thirty  comparisons  to  the  Iliad, — the  finest  of 
all,  perhaps,  being  that  in  which  Ajax,  defending  the  corpse 
of  Patroclus,  is  compared  to  a  lion  guarding  his  rubs, 
wno  'glares  in  his  strength,  and  draws  down  all  the  skin 
of  his  brows,  covering  his  eyes"  (//.  17.  135).  The  useful 
and  ornamental  arts  afford  other  similitudes  (which  we 
shall  have  occasion  to  mention  in  the  next  chapter) ;  others 
are  drawn  from  the  commonest  operations  or  experiences  of 
every-day  life  ;  for  Homer  thinks  nothing  too  homely  for 
iiis  purpose,  if  only  it  is  vivid.  The  struggle  of  Greeks  and 
Trojans  for  the  body  of  Patroclus  is  likened  to  men  tugging 
at  a  bull's  hide  which  they  wish  to  stretch  for  tanning 
(//.  17.  389);  the  quick  staunching  of  the  War-God's  wound 
by  the  divine  healer,  Paieon,  is  likened  to  the  quick  curdling 
of  milk  by  the  agency  of  fig-juice — the  old  Greek  equivalent 
for  rennet  (//.  5.  902);  the  stubborn  Ajax,  beset  by  Trojans, 
is  likened  to  an  ass  trespassing  on  corn-land,  and  vainly 
belaboured  with  cudgels  by  boys  (//.  n.  557).  This  forcible 
use  of  homely  imagery  is  no  less  Hebraic  than  Homeric ; 
it  is  enough  to  recall  2  Kings  xxi.  13,  'I  will  wipe 
Jerusalem  as  a  man  wipeth  a  dish:  he  wipeth  it  and 
turneth  it  upside  down,' — or  the  similes  (which  Homer 
also  has)  from  the  threshing-floor  and  the  winnowing  fan. 
Special  mention  is  due  to  a  small  group  of  peculiarly 

•were  suspected  in  antiquity  (though  on  grounds  which  seem  very 
inconclusive),  another  example  may  be  added — Od.  6.  232  ff.,  where 
the  splendour  given  by  Athene  to  the  aspect  of  Odysseus  is  marked  by 
the  simile  of  the  craftsman  overlaying  gold  upon  silver. 

1  It  should  be  noted  that  a  personal  knowledge  of  lions  would  not 
necessarily  presuppose  an  Asiatic  Homer.  In  the  sth  century  B.C. 
lions  still  existed  in  Thessaly,  Macedonia,  and  Thrace,  according  to- 
Herod.  7.  125  f.  His  statement  is  confirmed  byXenophon  (Cyneg.  n), 
and  by  Aristotle,  a  native  of  the  region  (Hist.  An.  6.  31,  8.  28).  See 
•Geddes,  Problem  of  the  Homeric  Poems,  p.  268. 


CH.  I.)  GENERAL   CHARACTERISTICS.  3! 

touching  similes  in  the  Iliad — taken,  as  if  for  contrast 
with  camp  and  battle,  from  the  life  of  children,  or  of  the 
family.  Apollo  throws  down  the  Greek  wall  as  easily  as 
a  child  destroys  the  sand-house  which  he  has  built  on  the 
sea-shore  (//.  15.  361);  Achilles  reproves  Patroclus  for 
weeping  like  a  little  girl  running  at  her  mother's  side, 
clinging  to  her  robe,  and  tearfully  looking  up,  until  the 
mother  lifts  her  in  her  arms  (//.  16.  2).  Achilles,  burning 
the  remains  of  Patroclus,  grieves  as  a  father  burning  the 
remains  of  a  son  who  has  died  soon  after  marriage  (//. 
23.  222).  The  evenly-poised  battle  is  as  the  balance  in 
the  hands  of  a  careful  working-woman,  weighing  wool,  'that 
she  may  win  a  scanty  wage  for  her  children'  (//.  12.  435). 

Subjective  imagery,  from  sensation  or  thought,  is  ex-  Sub- 

tremely  rare  in  Homer.     Once  there  is  a  simile   from   a^ectlve 

J  .  imagery 

dream,  in  which  the  dreamer  cannot  overtake  one  who  rare, 
flies  before  him  (//.  22.  199).  Once  only  in  the  Iliad 
have  we  a  simile — but  then  a  most  beautiful  one — from 
the  action  of  the  waking  mind.  Hera,  speeding  from  Ida 
to  Olympus,  is  likened,  for  swiftness,  to  the  thoughts  of  a 
man  who  has  travelled  in  many  lands :  '  He  considers  in 
his  wise  heart, — "  Would  that  I  were  there — or  there!" — 
and  thinks  wistfully  of  many  things'  (//.  15.  82).' 

19.  Homer  sometimes  illustrates  the  same  object  by  two  Aggre- 
or  more  similes,  presented  in  rapid  succession.     It  is  well  Satl°n  of 
to  observe  the  condition  under  which  this  usually  occurs,  —how 

since  imitations  of  the  practice  by  later  poets  have  some-  used  ^y 
TT  .      .  .  .  .     .  Homer. 

times  been  Homeric  in  semblance  without  being  properly 

Homeric  in  motive.  A  good  example  is  afforded  by  the 
passage  which  describes  the  Greeks  thronging  from  their 
quarters  by  the  ships  to  the  place  of  assembly  in  the 
plain.  Five  comparisons  are  there  contained  in  twenty-two 
verses  (//.  2.  455 — 476).  As  the  Greeks  issue  from  their 
huts  in  glittering  armour,  the  poet  likens  them  to  fire 
devouring  a  great  forest ;  as  they  noisily  hasten  forward 
on  the  plain,  to  a  clamorous  flight  of  birds;  as,  having 
reached  the  place  of  meeting,  they  stand  in  their  assembled 

1  Cp.  Od.  7.  36 :  the  Phaeacian  ships  are  '  swift  as  a  wing,  or  as  a 
thought '. 


32  HOMER.  [CH.  1. 

multitude,  to  countless  leaves;  as  they  are  agitated  by  a 
ripple  of  warlike  excitement,  to  buzzing  flies;  and,  as  they 
are  marshalled  in  divisions  by  their  leaders,  to  flocks  of 
goats  parted  by  goat-herds.  Fire — birds — leaves — flies — 
goats; — each  image  marks  a  distinct  moment;  one  rapidly 
follows  another  in  the  order  in  which  the  phases  of  the 
great  spectacle  itself  are  unfolded  before  Homer's  imagi- 
nation. Homer's  one  anxiety  is  to  make  us  see  each 
successive  phase  of  that  spectacle  as  vividly  as  he  sees  it : 
if  he  can  only  do  that,  he  does  not  care — as  a  literary 
epic  poet  would  have  been  apt  to  care — how  incongruous 
the  similes,  taken  all  together,  may  appear,  or  how  closely 
they  are  crowded  together.  When  Milton  compares  the 
fallen  angels,  prone  on  the  fiery  flood,  to  autumn  leaves 
strewing  a  brook,  or  to  sedge  scattered  on  the  Red  Sea1, 
the  images  of  multitude  are  alternative;  but  in  the  Homeric 
passage,  while  the  general  idea  of  multitude  is  common 
to  the  images  from  birds,  leaves,  flies,  and  goats,  each 
image  presents  that  idea  in  a  different  aspect.  Sometimes 
one  simile  is  almost  unconsciously  evolved  from  another. 
In  //.  13.  492  the  Trojans  following  Aeneas  are  compared 
to  sheep  following  the  bell-wether;  this  suggests  the  joy  felt 
by  the  shepherd ;  and  this,  in  turn,  is  compared  to  the  joy 
felt  by  Aeneas.  It  is  a  similar  transition  when  Milton  adds, 
after  speaking  of  the  sedge  on  the  Red  Sea, — 

whose  waves  o'erthrew 
Busiris  and  his  Memphian  chivalry, — 

and  so  evolves  a  new  image  for  the  confusion  of  the  Arch- 
Rebel's  host. 

The  20-     ^  may  now  be  well  to  select  some  one  integral 

Twenty-  portion  or  chapter  of  Homeric  action, — to  follow  it  in  rapid 

Book  of  outline, — and  to  see  how  it  illustrates  those  leading  cha- 

the//zW.  racteristics  which   have  been   separately  considered.     For 

this  purpose,  no  part  of  either  epic  can  be  more  suitable 

than  the  twenty-second  book  of  the  Iliad,  where  the  story 

1   Par.  Lost  i.  302  ff. 


CH.  I.]  GENERAL    CHARACTERISTICS.  33 

may  be  said  to  culminate  in  the  slaying  of  Hector  by 
Achilles.  No  other  single  book  of  Homer,  perhaps,  is 
more  comprehensively  typical. 

Athene  (in  Olympus)  is  friendly  to  Achilles ;  Apollo,  on 
the  Trojan  plain,  is  befriending  Hector.  In  order  to  save 
Hector,  Apollo  has  taken  upon  himself  the  semblance  of  a 
Trojan  warrior,  and  has  enticed  Achilles  away  in  pursuit. 
At  last  Apollo  reveals  himself  to  his  pursuer : — '  Wherefore, 
son  of  Peleus,  chasest  thou  me  with  swift  feet  ?'...' Me  thou 
wilt  never  slay,  for  I  am  not  subject  unto  death.'  Achilles 
replies,  in  anger:  'Thou  hast  foiled  me,  Far-darter,  most 
mischievous  of  all  the  gods... Verily  I  would  avenge  me  on 
thee,  had  I  but  the  power.'  Achilles  then  rushes  back  over 
the  plain  to  Troy, — 'like  some  victorious  steed  in  a  chariot.' 

Hector,  '  bound  by  deadly  Fate,'  is  meanwhile  standing 
before  the  walls  of  Troy,  at  the  Scaean  Gates.  His  aged 
father,  Priam,  is  on  the  walls,  and  can  see  Achilles  rushing 
onward, — his  armour  flashing  'like  the  star  that  cometh 
forth  at  harvest-time,' — like  Orion's  Dog,  that  brings  fever 
to  men.  Priam  implores  his  son  to  come  within  the  walls ; 
— '  Have  compassion  on  me  also,  the  helpless  one  ; ' — he 
rends  his  white  hair, — but  Hector  is  deaf  to  him, — and  to 
his  mother  Hecuba,  who  also  pleads  with  him  from  the 
walls : — '  Hector,  my  child,  have  regard  unto  this  bosom, 
and  pity  me,  if  ever  I  gave  thee  consolation  of  my  breast.' 

Achilles  has  now  come  close.  '  As  a  serpent  of  the 
mountains  upon  his  den  awaiteth  a  man,  having  fed  on  evil 
poisons,  and  fell  wrath  hath  entered  into  him,' — so  Hector 
awaits  the  attack ;  yet  he  is  troubled,  and  his  thoughts  are 
told  to  us  in  words — '  thus  spake  he  to  his  great  heart.' 
But  Achilles  is  upon  him,  like  a  very  god  of  war,  'brandishing 
from  his  right  shoulder  the  Pelian  ash,  his  terrible  spear; 
and,  all  around,  the  bronze  on  him  flashed  like  the  gleam 
of  blazing  fire,  or  of  the  Sun  as  he  ariseth.'  Hector  turns  to 
flight,  and  Achilles  pursues  him  round  the  walls  of  Troy, — 
'  as  a  falcon  upon  the  mountains,  swiftest  of  winged  things, 
swoopeth  fleetly  after  a  trembling  dove.' 

J-  3 


34  HOMER.  [CH.   t. 

All  the  gods  are  gazing  on  them  from  Olympus,  and 
now,  seeing  Hector  hard-pressed,  Zeus  speaks  among  them. 
Shall  we  save  Hector,  he  asks,  or  allow  Achilles  to  slay  him? 
Athene  protests  against  the  idea  of  saving  Hector, — 'a 
mortal,  doomed  long  ago  by  Fate; '  and  Zeus  answers, — 
'  Be  of  good  comfort,  dear  child :  not  in  full  earnest  speak 
I ;  and  I  would  fain  be  kind  to  thee.  Do  as  seemeth  good 
to  thy  mind.'  Then  Athene  darts  down  to  the  battle-field, 
to  help  Achilles. 

Now  for  the  third  time  Achilles  had  chased  Hector 
round  the  walls,  when  Zeus,  in  Olympus,  '  hung  his  golden 
balances,  and  set  therein  two  lots  of  dreary  death,' — one  for 
Achilles,  one  for  Hector.  Hector's  scale  sinks, — he  is  to  die : 
and  from  that  moment  Apollo  has  no  more  power  to  help 
him. 

Athene,  on  the  plain  below,  now  comes  to  the  side  of 
Achilles :  '  Do  thou  stand  still,  and  take  breath ;  and  I  will 
go,  and  persuade  this  man  to  face  thee  in  fight.'  She  takes 
the  guise  of  the  Trojan  Deiphobos,  Hector's  brother,  and 
pretends  that  she  has  come  forth  from  Troy  to  aid  him. 
Thus  encouraged,  Hector  turns  to  confront  Achilles, — 
defying  him  to  combat,  but  proposing,  before  they  fight,  to 
make  a  chivalrous  compact, — that,  whichever  may  fall,  the 
victor  shall  be  content  with  stripping  the  armour  from  the 
vanquished,  and  shall  restore  the  corpse,  to  receive  the  due 
rites  from  friends.  Achilles  sternly  answers  that  there  can 
be  no  compact  between  them,  'as  between  men  and  lions 
there  is  no  pledge  of  faith, — as  wolves  and  sheep  cannot  be 
of  one  mind.' 

He  hurls  his  spear, — Hector  crouches,  and  it  flies  over 
his  head; — Athene,  unseen  of  Hector,  restores  it  to  the 
hand  of  Achilles.  Hector  now  hurls  his  spear,  but  he,  too, 
misses: — he  calls  to  his  trusty  brother  Deiphobos  for  a 
second  spear — but  Deiphobos  has  vanished!  The  truth 
flashes  on  Hector — '  It  was  Athene  who  played  me  false' — 
and  he  knows  that  he  is  doomed.  Drawing  his  sword,  he 
rushes  on  Achilles,  who,  by  a  spear-thrust,  mortally  wounds 


CH.   l.|  GENERAL   CHARACTERISTICS.  35 

him  in  the  neck, — and  he  falls.  '  I  pray  thee  by  thy  life, 
and  knees,  and  parents,'  the  dying  man  says,  '  leave  me  not 
for  dogs  to  devour  by  the  ships  of  the  Achaeans,' — but 
Achilles  brooks  no  thought  of  ransom  for  the  corpse.  '  En- 
treat me  not,  dog,  by  knees  or  parents :  would  that  my 
heart's  desire  could  so  bid  me  myself  to  carve  thy  flesh,  and 
eat  it  raw,  for  the  evil  thou  hast  wrought  me,  as  surely 
there  is  none  that  shall  keep  the  dogs  from  thee.'  Then, 
with  his  last  breath,  Hector  warns  his  slayer  of  wrath  to 
come  from  the  gods,  in  the  day  when  he  also  shall  be  slain 
at  those  same  Gates  of  Troy ;  '  and  the  shadow  of  death 
came  down  upon  him,  and  his  soul  flew  forth  of  his  limbs, 
and  was  gone  to  the  house  of  Hades,  wailing  her  fate, 
leaving  her  vigour  and  youth.' 

Achilles  strips  the  gory  armour  from  the  body,  and 
binds  the  body  to  his  chariot,  and,  lashing  his  horses  to 
speed,  drags  it  to  the  camp  :  the  fierce  rage  for  the  death 
of  Patroclus  is  still  consuming  his  heart:  while,  in  Troy, 
Priam  and  Hecuba  make  bitter  lament,  and  all  the  folk  of 
Troy  fall  to  crying  and  moaning :  '  most  like  it  seemed  as 
though  all  beetling  Ilios  were  burning  utterly  with  fire.' 

But  meanwhile  Hector's  wife,  Andromache,  was  in  hex 
house  in  Troy,  waiting  for  his  return:  'in  an  inner  chamber 
she  was  weaving  a  double  purple  web,  and  broidering  there- 
in manifold  flowers.'  She  had  bade  her  handmaids  ;  to  set 
a  great  tripod  on  the  fire,  that  Hector  might  have  warm 
washing  when  he  came  home  out  of  the  battle, — fond 
heart! — and  knew  not  how,  far  from  all  washings,  bright- 
eyed  Athene  had  slain  him  by  the  hand  of  Achilles.' 
Suddenly  she  heard  the  cry  of  Hector's  mother,  Hecuba, 
on  the  battlements ;  'her  limbs  reeled,  and  the  shuttle  fell 
irom  her  hands.'  She  rushed  forth  with  two  of  her  hand- 
maids: 'but  when  she  came  to  the  battlements  and  the 
throng  of  men,  she  stood  still  upon  the  wall,  and  gazed,  and 
beheld  him  dragged  before  the  walls :  and  night  came  on 
her  eyes,  and  shrouded  her.'  The  awakening  from  that 
swoon  is  followed  by  her  passionate  lament,  for  herself,  and 

3—2 


36  HOMER.  [CH.  I. 

for  her  son :  '  the  day  of  orphanage  sunders  a  child  from 

his  fellows.' 

Con-  21.     In  the  swift  action  of  this  twenty-second  book,  we 

rernarlfs  can  ^cognise  at  least  four  general  traits  as  pre-eminently 

Homeric. 

(1)  The  outlines  of  character  are  made  distinct  in  deed, 
in  dialogue,  and  in  audible  thought. 

(2)  The  divine  and   human   agencies  are  interfused  : 
the  scene  passes  rapidly  from  earth  to  Olympus,  and  again 
to  earth :  the  gods  speak  the  same  language  as  men, — 
noble,   yet   simple  and  direct;    the  gods  are  superhuman 
in  might, — human  in  love,  in  hate,  and  in  guile. 

(3)  Each  crisis  of  the  narrative  is  marked  by  a  powerful 
simile  from  nature. 

(4)  The  fiercest  scenes  of  war  are  brought  into  relief 
against  profoundly  touching  pictures  of  domestic  love  and 
sorrow. 

Perhaps  the  best  proof  of  the  enduring  reality  which 
Homer  has  given  to  his  epic  world  is  the  fact  that,  in  a 
world  so  different  as  our  own,  '  Homeric '  is  still  an 
epithet  which  can  be  applied,  not  only  to  a  style,  but  to  an 
action  or  to  a  man.  Among  those  for  whom  the  word 
'  Homeric '  has  a  clear  meaning,  not  a  few,  perhaps,  have 
known  some  friend  in  whose  character  or  conduct  they 
have  felt  a  certain  affinity  with  the  spirit  which  breathes  in 
Homer. 

One  example  may  suffice.  After  referring  to  the 
Homeric  qualities  which  distinguish  Clough's  poem,  Thf 
Bothie  of  Tober-na-  Vuolich, — 'its  out-of-doors  freshness,  life, 
naturalness,  buoyant  rapidity,'  its  Homeric  ring  in  such 
phrases  as  ^Dangerous  Corrievrechan... where  roads  are  un- 
known to  Loch  Nevish' — Mr  Matthew  Arnold  goes  on  to- 
say  of  Clough  himself, — 'But  that  in  him  of  which  I  think 
oftenest,  is  the  Homeric  simplicity  of  his  literary  life.' 

Those  general  characteristics  of  Homer  which  it  has  been 
the  purpose  of  this  chapter  to  indicate  are  the  chief  reasons, 
why  the  word  '  Homeric '  is  fraught  with  a  living  suggestive- 


CH.   I.]  GENERAL   CHARACTERISTICS.  37 

ness,  not  shared  by  '  Virgilian '  or  '  Miltonic.'  But  there  is 
also  a  further  reason.  Homer  describes  a  certain  phase  of 
early  civilisation.  He  portrays  its  politics,  its  religious  and 
moral  ideas,  its  material  circumstances,  its  social  manners. 
This  picture  is  not  a  laboured  mosaic  or  an  archaeological 
revival.  It  is  a  naturally  harmonious  whole,  and  it  completes 
the  unity  of  impression  which  Homer  leaves  on  the  mind. 
We  may  now  consider  the  principal  features  of  this  picture. 


CHAPTER    II. 


THE  HOMERIC  WORLD. 

The  i.     THE  Homeric  poems  are  the  oldest  documents  of 

Hellenic  Hellenic  life.   The  Greek  race,  as  first  revealed  by  Homer,  re- 
type » 
already    sembles  the  poetical  art  which  discloses  it.     It  is  a  matured 

mature,  type,  which  must  have  been  gradually  developed,  though  the 
antecedent  phases  of  development  are  lost  in  a  prehistoric 
darkness.  The  Homeric  Greek  exhibits  all  the  essential 
characteristics  and  aptitudes  which  distinguish  his  descendant 
in  the  historical  age.  If  his  natural  gifts  are  not  yet  in  full 
exercise,  they  only  wait  for  opportunity  and  circumstance. 
The  broader  aspects  of  the  Homeric  world  are  the  same  in 
the  Iliad  and  in  the  Odyssey.  But  there  are  also  differences, 
which,  like  certain  traits  of  language,  suggest  that  the 
Odyssey  belongs  to  a  somewhat  later  period  than  the  Iliad. 
General  These  differences  will  be  noted  as  they  occur.  On  the 
of  the  °ther  hand,  each  epic  may,  for  our  present  purpose,  be 
picture,  treated  as  a  whole.  Each,  indeed, — as  will  be  seen  in 
Chapter  iv., — contains  parts  which  did  not  belong  to  the 
original  form  of  the  poem.  In  the  Iliad  such  additions 
have  been  numerous,  and  certainly  have  not  all  been 
contemporaneous ;  yet,  even  there,  minor  discrepancies  in 
regard  to  plot  and  style  do  not  affect  the  general  con- 
sistency with  which  the  salient  features  of  the  Achaean 
period  are  presented. 


CH.   II.]  THE   HOMERIC   WORLD.  39 

2.  As  the  geography  is  the  framework  of  the  picture,  Homeri< 
we  may  first  glance  at  that.      Homer  imagines  the  earth  j^06™ 
as  a  round  plane,  girdled   by  the  deep    and   strong   river 
Oceanus — which,  as  far  as  Homer  is  concerned,  seems  to 

have  nothing  to  do  with  any  dim  idea  of  the  Atlantic,  but 
to  be  a  pure  myth.     The  'bronze'  or  'iron'  sky  is  the  con- 
cave roof  of  the  earth,  propped  by  pillars  which  the  giant 
Atlas  upholds1.     On  this  large  flat  disc,  the  earth,  there  is 
only  one   inner  zone   of  which    Homer  has   any  distinct 
notion.     This  is  the  belt  of  countries  around  the  Aegean 
sea.     By  the  'inner  geography'  of  Homer  we  mean  the  geo-  'Inner' 
graphyof  this  Aegean  zone.    The  'outer  geography'  consists  f"uter' 
in   hints  of  regions  beyond  that  zone.     The   'outer  geo-  geogra- 
graphy'  is  very  scant  and  hazy.     So  much  is  true  of  both  p  5 
poems. 

3.  On  the  western  side  of  the  Aegean,  the  Iliad  shows  Iliad. 
a  good  knowledge  of  Greece.     There  is  not,  however,  any  ggj^a- 
collective  name  for  it.    The  Greeks  are  called  the  '  Achaeans,'  phy. 
'the  Argives,'  or  'the  DanaiV     ' Hellas'  denotes  merely  a 
district  in  the  region   afterwards  called  Thessaly3.      The 
name  Thessaly  does  not  occur  in  either  poem,  though  the 

1  Mr  Bunbury,  in  his  History  of  Ancient  Geography  (I.  33),  thinks 
that  the  Homeric  Atlas  merely  guards  the  pillars,  and  that  the  idea 
of  his  upholding  them  began  with  later  poets  (Hes.  Theog.  517  etc.). 
But  in  Od.  \.  53  (\et  34  re  Kiovas  avris,  K.T.\.,  the  emphatic  pronoun 
favours  the  other  view,  which  the  name  a-rXaj  (upholder)  itself  sug- 
gests. Atlas  has  been  explained  as  the  sea,  on  which,  at  the  horizon, 
the  sky  seems  to  rest. 

3  In  //.  i.  530  (Catalogue),  but  nowhere  else,  we  have  HavAXi/^os 
KCU  'A.XO-IOVS. 

3  //.  2.  683  01  T'  flxov  <bf>ii}v  178'  'EXXaSa  KaXXiytvaiica.  Phthia 
and  Hellas  are  there  two  of  five  districts  in  UfXaffytKov  "Apyos,  which 
belong  to  the  kingdom  of  Peleus.  In  //.  9  (one  of  the  perhaps  later 
books),  447,  478,  '  Hellas'  seems  to  have  a  larger  sense,  denoting  the 
whole  N.  region  of  Thessaly.  In  Od.  i.  344  Ka0"EXX<x3a  »cai  piffov 
"Apyos=' in  Northern  and  Southern  Greece.'  'EXX<fj  =  all  Greece  first 
in  Hes.  Opp.  651.  Thuc.  (i.  3)  supposes  that  when  the  hero  Hellen  and 
his  sons  had  grown  powerful  in  Phthiotis,  the  name  Hellenes  became 
diffused  through  their  being  called  in  to  help  other  states  in  war. 


40  HOMER.  [CH.   TI. 

region  is  familiar  to  a  part  of  the  Iliad.  The  knowledge 
of  western  Greece  includes  Aetolia,  with  the  great  river 
Achelous,  but  excludes  Acarnania  and  Epeirus  (which  is  not 
found  as  a  proper  name).  The  poetical  assumption  in  the 
Iliad  is  that  the  Achaean  princes  are  still  ruling  in  Pelo- 
ponnesus, Agamemnon  having  his  royal  seat  at  Mycenae. 
'Dorians'  are  not  mentioned  in  the  Iliad.  The  name 
'Argos'  denotes  not  only  the  town  Argos,  or  the  region  of 
Argolis,  but  also,  especially  in  the  formula  '•Achaean 
Argos1,'  the  whole  or  a  great  part  of  Peloponnesus  (a  name 
which  Homer  never  uses).  Similarly  ' Pelasgian  Argos2 
seems  to  mean  Thessaly,  or  the  northern  part  of  it.  On 
the  northern  shores  of  the  Aegean,  the  Thracian  tribes 
are  known,  including  the  Paeonians  who  dwell  on  the 
Axius  (Vardar),  'the  fairest  stream  that  waters  the 
earth8.' 

In  Asia  Minor,  the  Iliad  knows  the  topography  of  the 
Troad  in  some  detail.  The  country  afterwards  called  Lydia 
is  'Maeonia,'  identified  by  the  mention  of  Mount  Tmolus4. 
On  the  coast  from  Mysia  to  Caria  not  one  of  the  Greek 
colonies  is  mentioned*.  The  name  of  'lonians'  occurs  only 
once  in  Homer  (//.  13.  685),  and  in  that  passage  it  has 
been  generally  understood  as  referring  to  the  Athenians. 
The  references  to  the  interior  of  Asia  Minor  (Phrygia,  Paph- 

1  "Apyos  'Axa'Mv,  II.  9.  141,  283:   19.  115:  Od.  3.  251.     In  Od. 
1 8.   246  "lavov  "Apyos  also  =  Peloponnesus  :  and  "Apyos  alone  has  this 
sense  in  Od.  i.  344,  &c.     In  //.  12.  70  the  phrase  Air"'Apyfos  (repeated, 
I3-   227,    14.   70)  seems  to  mean  the  whole  of  Greece.     (Distinguish 
Homer's   awly   yaia  (a   far  land)   from  later   poets'  'Airla.  yrj  =  Pelo- 
ponnesus. ) 

2  Hf \affyiKov" Apyos  II.  2.  68 r  (the  only  place  in  either  poem  where 
this  combination  occurs). 

3  //.  2.  850. 

4  //.  2.  866.     In  20.  390  ff.  the  \lfj-vt]  TvyalTj  and  the  river  Hermus 
are  also  named.    °Y5i)  there  (383)  seems  to  represent  a  site  answering  to 
that  of  Sardis. 

5  The  name  of  Miletus,  indeed,  occurs  (//.  2.  868), — but  it  is  a  town 
of    the    KSpey    ftapj3apb<j>ui>oi,    who    also    possess    Mycale,    and    the 
valley  of  the  Maeander.     In  2.  647  Miletus  is  a  town  of  Crete. 


CH.   II.]  THE    HOMERIC   WORLD.  41 

lagonia,  etc.)  are  slight  and  vague1.  Among  the  Aegean 
islands,  Crete  and  Rhodes  are  named,  with  a  south-eastern 
group :  also  the  group  of  the  north-east,  off  the  Troad — 
Tenedos,  Imbros,  Samothrace  (called  Samos),  Lesbos, 
Lemnos.  There  is  no  mention  of  the  Cyclades,  nor  of 
Chios  or  Samos. 

The  'outer'  geography  of  the  Iliad  asks  but  few  words.  Iliad. 
To  the  north,  there  is  a  dim  rumour  of  nomads  who  roam 
the  plains  beyond  the  Thracian  hills,  living  on  the  milk  of  phy- 
their  mares1:  yet  the  name  'Scythian'  is  not  found.  To  the 
south,  there  is  a  rumour  of  'swart  faces'  (Aethiopes), 
'remotest  of  men':  and  of  Pygmies,  who  dwell  hard  by 
the  banks  of  the  river  Ocean8.  Egypt  is  noticed  only  in  a 
passing  mention  of  the  Egyptian  Thebes*.  The  name 
'  Phoenician '  occurs  only  once,  but  the  cunning  works  of 
Sidon  are  more  than  once  mentioned8.  Tyre  is  not 
named. 

4.     The  'Catalogue'  of  the  Greek  and  Trojan  allies  (//.  The 
2.  484 — 877)  has  a  peculiar  character,  and  should  be  con-  \^^ 

sidered  by  itself,  apart  from  the  rest  of  the  Iliad.    The  small  a  docu- 
ment 
apart. 

1  A  region  somewhere  to  the  east  of  Paphlagonia  seems   to   be 

denoted  by  'AXvfir),  'the  birthplace  of  silver,'  the  home  of  the  Halizones 
(//.  2.  857,  cp.  5.  39), — identified  by  some  of  the  ancients  with  the 
country  of  the  Chalybes.  Neither  poem  mentions  the  Euxine,  or  the 
river  Halys.  (See  Bunbury,  Anc.  Geo.  i.  37.) 

2  "liriri)/jio\y£>v  \  y\a.Kro<f>o.yuv,  II.  13.  5. 

8  The  //.  mentions  the  Aethiopes  only  when  it  is  needful  to  send  the 
gods  on  some  very  distant  excursion  (to  feast  on  the  Aethiopian 
offerings) — i.  418,  13.  206.  The  'Pygmies'  (3.  6)  are  curiously 
illustrated  by  M.  Schweinfurth's  account  of  a  race  of  dwarfs  (Akka^ 
in  Central  Africa  (Travels  in  the  Heart  of  Africa  ii.  ch.  xvi.)  : 
Bunbury  i.  48. 

*  //.  9.  381  f.  6i)j8as  |  AlyvTrrlas,  oOi  ir\flffTa.  56/xois  tv  Krrifiara 
KUTO.I :  it  has  a  hundred  gates,  and  at  each  200  men  '  go  forth  with 
horses  and  chariots.'  Orchomenus  (in  Boeotia)  and  Apollo's  temple 
in  '  Pytho'  (Delphi)  are  the  other  typically  rich  places  (id.  381,  405). 

6  Phoenicians  //.  23.  744  :  Sidon  6.  289  (embroidered  robes,  tpya 
yi'VdLK&v  |  ZiSovluv) :  23.  743  (a  silver  cup,  Sieves  iro\v8alda\oi  eu 


42  HOMER.  [CH.    II. 

groups  of  verses,  strung  together  in  a  jerky  manner,  show 
the  style  of  the  Hesiodic  school,  which  produced  other 
'Catalogues'  of  this  kind,  and  which  had  its  chief  seat  in 
Boeotia.  Accordingly  the  poet  of  the  Catalogue  makes 
Boeotia  the  most  important  part  of  Greece.  He  puts  it  first, 
and  names  more  towns  in  it  than  in  any  other  region1.  The 
story  that  Solon  inserted  a  verse  (558)  in  order  to  support 
the  Athenian  claim  to  Salamis  seems  at  least  to  indicate 
that,  as  early  as  circ.  600  B.C.,  the  Catalogue  had  canonical 
authority  as  a  Domesday  Book  of  Greece.  At  the  same 
time  the  story  suggests  the  kind  of  motive,  and  also 
the  ease,  with  which  interpolations  may  have  been  made 
down  to  a  relatively  late  period.  And  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  the  Catalogue  actually  contains  such  additions. 
But,  in  the  main,  it  may  be  as  old  as  800 — 700  B.C.,  or 
older.  The  Achaean  empire  of  Agamemnon,  with  its 
capital  at  Mycenae,  extends  beyond  the  Peloponnesus : 
Boeotia  and  Thessaly  are  populous,  while  Athens  is  ob- 
scure :  Greek  settlers  have  reached  Crete  and  Rhodes,  but 
are  not  heard  of  on  the  coasts  of  Asia  Minor.  In  these 
broad  features  the  map  of  the  Catalogue  is  probably 
historical,  though  we  cannot  date  it2.  But  it  certainly  was 
not  originally  intended  for  its  present  place  in  the  Iliad. 
The  Hesiodic  poet  who  composed  it  appears  to  have  been 
thinking  of  the  Greek  ships  as  mustering  on  the  shores 
of  his  own  Boeotia,  before  they  left  Aulis  for  Troy3.  And 
in  two  special  points  the  Catalogue  seems  to  be  at  variance 
with  popular  tradition.  It  places  the  Boeotians  in  Boeotia ; 
but,  according  to  the  popular  Greek  tradition,  their  im- 

1  29  in  all.     From  Boeotia  the  poet  of  the  Catalogue  passes  to  the 
regions  around  it — then  to  Peloponnesus  and  the  regions  adjacent  to 
it  on  the  N.W. — then  to  Crete — and  then  back  to  Thessaly.      Among 
the  places  in  Greece  Proper  not  mentioned  in  the  Catalogue  are  Delphi, 
Eleusis,  Megara,  Pisa,  Pharsalus,  Larissa. 

2  Cp.    Freeman,   Hist.    Geography  of  Europe,   and  D.    B.   Monro 
in  the  Historical  Revieiv,  no.  i . 

3  Hence  aye  vrjas,  i/^es  timxbuvTo,  etc.,  which  would  be  strange  if 
the  ships  had  for  ten  years  been  drawn  up  on  land  at  Troy. 


CH.  II.]  THE    HOMERIC    WORLD  43 

migration  took  place  sixty  years  after  the  Trojan  war1.  It 
is  true,  we  do  not  know  the  authority  for  this  tradition,  nor 
can  we  press  it,  as  to  the  fact ;  but  at  least  the  absence 
of  the  name  Thessaly  from  the  Iliad,  while  the  region  is  so 
well-known,  agrees  with  the  tradition.  Again,  the  Catalogue 
places  Tlepolemus, — a  Heracleid,  and  therefore  a  Dorian, — 
in  Rhodes*.  Dorians  are  mentioned  nowhere  else  in  the 
Iliad;  and  their  presence  in  Rhodes  rather  suggests  their 
presence  in  Peloponnesus,  since  it  was  from  Sparta  that 
the  Dorian  colonisation  of  the  Aegean  islands  seems  to 
have  begun.  The  passage  relating  to  Tlepolemus  may,  of 
course,  be  a  later  interpolation. 

5.     This  being  the  area  which  the  Iliad  recognises,  it  Traccso 
may  be  asked — '  How  far  does  the  poem  show  a  personal  }^^nn 
knowledge  of  its  scenes?'     The  answer  must  be  that  there  ledge, 
are  two  main  threads  of  local  association.    Parts  of  the  Iliad 
bear  the  impress  of  northern  Greece  in  the  imagery  of  wild 
woodlands  and  hills  •  in  the  prominence  given  to  the  horse, 
which  is  characteristic  of  Thessaly ;  and  in  the  presence  of 
Mount  Olympus  as  the  dominant  feature  of  the  landscape8. 
Other   parts  of  the  Iliad  show  local   colouring   borrowed 
from  the  valley  of  the  Cayster  near  Ephesus,  or  from  that 
'Icarian  sea'  which  washed  the  sea-board  of  south-western 

1  The  mythical  chronology  placed  events  in  this  order: — 1184  B.C. 
Troy  taken  :  1124,  Boeotians  driven  Southward  into  'Boeotia'  by  the 
Thessalian   immigrants   from    Epeirus :     1104,    Achaean   rule   in   the 
Peloponnesus  overthrown  by  the  Dorians.     Thuc.  (l.    12)  noticed  this 
difficulty  in  the  Catalogue,  and  got  over  it  by  supposing  that  Homer's 
Boeotians   were   only  a   sort   of  advanced   guard   (d7ro5a<j>u5s).     It   is 
curious  that  the  Catalogue  (v.  750)  seems  to  put  Dodona  in  Thessaly, 
instead  of  Epeirus. 

2  //.  2.  655.     His  followers  are  5td  rpl\a  Kotrft,T)6ivTes — a  hint  of  the 
three  Dorian  tribes  (Hylleis,  Dymanes,  Pamphyli). — Cp.  Find.  Pyth. 
5.  68  where  the  Dorian  colonisers  of  Thera  set  out  from  Sparta. 

3  See  Geddes,  Problem  of  the  Homeric  Poems,  chapters  xvm,  xix, 
xx,  where  this  whole  topic  is  ably  treated.     The  traits  from  northern 
Greece  belong  mainly  to  Crete's  '  Achilleid '  (Iliad  minus  books  2 — 7, 
9,  10,  23,  24).     The  character  of  Thessaly  as  especially  the  equestrian 
land  is  illustrated  by  the  frequency  of  the  horse  on  the  coins  of  Crannon, 
L.uissa,  Pharsalus,  and  Pherae  (Geddes,  p.  248). 


44  HOMER.  [CH.   II. 

Asia  Minor.  We  also  find  the  Niobe  myth  localised  at 
Mount  Sipylus  on  the  Lydian  border1. 
Odyssey.  6.  In  the  Odyssey,  the  coast  of  Ionia  is  better  known. 
We  hear  for  the  first  time  of  Chios,  and  of  'windy  Mimas', 
the  neighbouring  promontory  on  the  Ionian  mainland2.  The 
poet  knows  the  altar  of  Apollo  in  Delos,  the  central  resort 
of  early  Ionian  worship8.  'Dorians'  are  once  mentioned, 
in  Crete4.  In  Greece  Proper  we  still  hear  of  'Pytho',  as  in 
the  Iliad,  not  yet  of  Delphi5.  As  to  the  islands  on  the  west 
side  of  Greece — Ithaca  and  the  adjacent  group — the  poet 
knew  some  of  their  general  characteristics.  Ithaca  is  rugged 
and  rocky,  as  he  says — suited  to  goats,  and  not  to  horses. 
But  it  is  not  a  'low'  island,  and  his  description  of  its 
position,  relatively  to  its  neighbours,  is  hard  to  reconcile 
with  the  supposition  that  he  was  personally  familiar  with  it". 
7.  In  the  'outer'  geography  of  the  Odyssey,  we  find  that 
the  Phoenician  traders  are  now  thoroughly  familiar  visitors. 

1  The  Asia  Minor  traits  belong  chiefly  to  books  i — 7,  9,  and  24. 
River  Cayster  and  '  Asian '  meadow  (first  extant  trace  of  the  name 
'Asian'),  //.  i.  461  :  Icarian  sea,  2.  145:  Mt  Sipylus,  24.  615.  I 
omit  the  argument  of  Dr  Geddes  (p.  281),  from  //.  2.  535,  A.OKP&V  of 
valovtri  irtp-rjv  lep^s  Ei)/3o£i;j  (that  the  poet  is  looking  westward  from 
Ionia),  because  this  occurs  in  the  Catalogue,  which,  as  plainly  of 
Boeotian  origin,  I  should  distinguish  from  book  2.  i — 483. 

"  Od,  3.  172  virivepOe  "Kioto,  irap  •fiv€/j.6evTa  Minavra. 

3  Od.  6.  162. 

4  Od.  19.  177.     Awpt&j  re  rpix&Kcs,  usually  explained  as  'divided 
into  three  tribes;'  but  perhaps  rather  'with  waving  locks  (or  crests)', 
fr.  0pi%,  and  dfcrcrw  (rt.  at/c),  as  Mr  Monro  thinks :  cp.  icopvOdl'Z,  7ro\vdt£. 

8  Od.  n.  581. 

0  Ithaca  is  distinctly  placed  to  the  west  of  Cephallenia  (Zcfyu;)  and 
far  apart  from  it  (Od.  9.  25  f.).  Ithaca  is  really  to  the  north-east  of 
Cephallenia,  and  is  divided  from  it  only  by  a  narrow  strait.  Then 
Cephallenia  is  said  to  form  &  group,  apart  from  Ithaca,  with  Zacynthus 
(Zante  !),  and  Dulichium — which  Mr  Bunbury  identifies  with  Leucadia 
(Santa  Maura)  :  Anc.  Geo.  i.  69.  (I  agree  with  Mr  W.  G.  Clark, 
Peloponn.  p.  206,  that  Santa  Maura  is  much  too  small,  and  not  in  the 
right  position  for  Dulichium.)  The  best  description  of  Ithaca  in  relation 
to  Homer  is  to  be  found  in  Mr  W.  J.  Stillman's  papers,  '  On  the  Track 
of  Ulysses,'  in  the  Century  Magazine  for  Sept.  and  Oct.,  1884.  See 
also  Bunbury,  Anc.  Geo.  i.  68,  83. 


CH.   II.]  THE    HOMERIC    WORLD.  45 

Voyages  to  Egypt  seem  also  familiar,  though  'the  river 
Egyptus'  is  the  only  name  for  the  Nile.  The  'swart-faces' 
of  the  Iliad  are  thus  far  more  defined,  that  the  Odyssey 
knows  two  divisions  of  them  —  eastern  and  western  Aethio- 
pians.  Libya  is  named  for  the  first  time.  The  'Sicilians1' 
are  mentioned;  and  in  the  last  book  (which  has  been 
regarded  as  a  later  addition  to  the  poem)  we  find  'Sicania2' 
(an  older  name  for  'Sicily').  Odysseus,  on  sailing  from 
Troy,  is  first  driven  to  the  land  of  the  Cicones  on  the 
coast  of  Thrace,  and  then  crosses  the  Aegean  to  Cape  Malea 
(the  S.E.  point  of  the  Peloponnesus);  hence  he  is  driven 
out  to  sea  by  evil  winds.  From  that  moment,  till  he  Wander 
finally  reaches  Ithaca,  his  wanderings  belong  to  the  realm'  QJPsseu 
of  fancy.  The  'Lotus-eaters'  were  doubtless  suggested  to  —  imagi 
the  poet  by  sailors'  stories  of  a  tribe  on  the  north-coast  of  nary- 
Africa  who  lived  chiefly  on  the  fruit  of  the  lotus-tree*. 
Scylla  and  Charybdis  were  suggested  by  a  rumour  of  perils 
run  by  mariners  in  the  straits  of  Messina4.  Further  than 
this  we  cannot  go.  When  the  early  Corinthian  settlers  in 
Corcyra  became  skilful  seamen,  they  set  up  the  claim  that 
Corcyra  was  the  Homeric  home  of  the  seafaring  Phaeacians. 
This  was  the  common  creed  of  the  old  world,  and  still  lives 


Od.  20.  383  (in  24.  2ii  etc.  the  old  attendant  of  Laertes 
is  a  2t/ceXi)). 

2  ZIKCWIT;  Od.  24.  307.     The  Suavof  were  early  immigrants  from 
Iberia,  icai  a*-'  ai/raJx  SiKavia  T6re  i)  vijffos  ^/toXetro,  wpbrepov  T/upajtpt'a 
KaXovfji^vTj   (Thuc.    6.    2).     The   Zi/reXol  were   later  immigrants    from 
Italy. 

3  Od.  9.  82  ff.    Her.  4.  177.   Scylax  {Periplus  no)  places  them  near 
the  lesser  Syrtis  (Gulf  of  Khabs).     Polybius  12.  2  describes  the  lotus 
(rhainnus  lotus)   from  personal  knowledge  as  yielding  a  fruit  which, 
when    prepared,    resembled    the   fig    or  date,  —  and  also  as    yielding 


4  Thuc.  4.  24^/4cro|i)'Pi77ioi;  ddXacraa  ical  ~M.e<fffijv^...(ffTiv  77  Xdpu/33u 
K\-i)6fl<ra  roCro  —  owing,  as  he  says,  to  the  dangerous  eddies  and  currents. 
Admiral  Smyth  has  described  these  (  The  Mediterranean,  pp.  178  —  182)  : 
cp.  Bunbury,  Anc.  Geo.  i.  61,  who  remarks  that  '  anything  in  the  nature 
of  a  whirlpool  '  has  ever  been  subject  to  exaggeration  —  instancing  the 
Norwegian  Maelstrom  and  the  Corrievrechan  in  the  Hebrides. 


46  HOMER. 

in  Corfu1.  But  even  this  has  no  real  warrant  from  Homer. 
The  Odyssey  knows  'Thesprotia,'  the  part  of  southern 
Epeirus  over  against  Corcyra,  yet  never  names  it  in  con- 
nection with  Scheria,  the  land  (never  called  the  island)  of 
the  Phaeacians.  It  is  futile  to  aim  at  mapping  out  the  voy- 
age of  Odysseus  as  definitely  as  'the  voyage  of  Magellan  or 
Vasco  de  GamaV  The  whole  impression  left  by  the 
Odyssey  is  that  a  poet,  who  himself  knew  only  the  Aegean 
zone,  wove  into  imaginary  wanderings  some  touches  derived 
from  stories  of  the  western  Mediterranean  brought  by 
Phoenician  traders,  who  had  reached  the  south  of  Spain  as 
early  as  about  noo  B.C.8. 

8.  Not  a  word  in  Homer  shows  acquaintance  with  the 
great  monarchies  on  the  Euphrates  or  the  Tigris.  The  names 
of  Assyria  and  Babylon  are  never  heard.  Civilisation,  outside 
of  the  Aegean,  is  represented  solely  by  Egypt  and  Phoeni- 
cia*. Remembering  the  despotic  character  of  kingship  in 
the  oriental  empires — that  character  which  Herodotus  has 
so  graphically  depicted  in  Xerxes — we  cannot  fail  to  be 
impressed  by  the  contrast  which  the  Homeric  world  reveals. 
Here,  as  in  the  East,  monarchy  is  the  prevalent  form  of 
government.  But  it  is  a  monarchy  which  operates  mainly 

1  Thuc.  i.  25.     Can6ni  Bay  in  Corfu  (so  called  from  the  cannon 
mounted   there)    is  shown  as  the  spot  where  Odysseus  met  Nausicaa 
('Chrysida,'  in  the  local  version). 

2  Bunbury,   Anc.    Geo.  i.   50,    whose  remarks  on  this  subject  are 
judicious.     Almost  all  the  fabulous  tribes  and  places  of  the  poem  have 
been  prosaically  localised.     Thus: — the  land  of  the  Cyclopes  =  Sicily 
(Eur.    Cyclops    assumes    this):     Laestrygones  =  Sicily    (Greek    view), 
or  =  Formiae  in  Campania  (Roman  view):   isle  of  Aeolus  =  Stromboli 
(one  of  the  '  Aeoliae  insulae,'  or  Lipari  group)  :  isle  of  Calypso  =  Gaudos 
(Gozo,  close  to  Malta  on  the  N.  E.) :  Circe's  isle=the  promontory  (!)  of 
Circeii  on  the  Italian  coast — &c. 

3  Cp.  Bunbury,  Anc.  Geo,  i.  6  L. 

4  In  Od.   ii.  520  haipoi  Krrreioi  (z>.  /.  /ojSeioi)  fall  at  Troy  with 
Eurypylus.     These  comrades  of  the   Mysian   hero  have  been   rashly 
claimed  as  Hittites  by  some  ingenious  writers.     It  is  hardly  necessary 
to  observe  that  the  name  01  that  people  (the  Khita  of  the  Egyptian 
monuments)  would  not  appear  in  Greek  as  Kijretoi. 


CH.  II.]  THE    HOMERIC   WORLD.  47 

by  reasonable  persuasion,  appealing  to  force  only  in  the 
last  resort.  Public  questions  are  brought  before  the  whole 
body  of  those  whom  they  concern.  The  king  has  his  duties 
no  less  than  his  privileges.  At  this  early  age — while  in 
each  non-Hellenic  monarchy  'all  were  slaves  but  one" — 
the  Hellenes  have  already  reached  the  conception  of  a 
properly  political  life. 

9.  '  Basileus*, '  'leader  of  the  people,'  'duke,'  is  the  title  King, 
of  the  royal  office.  It  includes  'chiefs' or  'kings'  of  different 
relative  rank:  thus  Agamemnon,  the  suzerain,  is  'most 
royal8.'  Every  basileus  rules  by  right  hereditary  and 
divine :  Zeus  has  given  the  sceptre  to  his  house.  The 
distinguishing  epithet  of  the  Homeric  kings,  I2,tm-nurtured,' 
(Storpe^'s)  means  generally,  'upheld  and  enlightened  by 
Zeus,'  but  is  further  tinged  with  the  notion  of  the  king's 

1  Eur.  ffel.  276  ra  fia.pfia.puv  yap  dou\a  irdvra  v\r)i>  ev6s:  whereas 
the  early  Greek  monarchies  were  founded  on  consent  (enovfftai,  as  Arist. 
Pol.  3.  10.  1 1  says). 

2  Curtius  would  derive  it  from  rt.  fia  and  Ion.  \ev-\ao  (cp.  Aeirru- 
X^r/j),   a  compound  like   STijcrt-xopos :    cp.    £ei>£fXews   (Soph.   fr.    129 
Nauck),    <L  vircffvyfji.tvoi  elfflv   ol  \a.oi.     [Eustathius   says,   p.  401.  n, 
£ev£/Xews  etprjTai  wapd  TO?S  net)'  "Q/ji-qpov  6  /ScwiXeuj.]   Another  deriv.  from 
£a   and  Xeu  =  Xafa  (Xaas),  'one  who  mounts   a   stone,'   refers   to  the 
Teutonic  and  Celtic  custom  that  the  king  should  show  himself  to  the 
people  on  a  high  stone — a  custom  not  proved  for  early  Greece.     See 
Curt.  Etynt.  §  535  (sth  ed.,  Eng.  tr.   by  Wilkins  and  England,  1886, 
vol.  I.  p.  439). 

3  //.  9  69,  the  only  instance  of  /3<wiXei/7-aros.    The  compar.  fia<ri\fi>- 
repot  occurs  only  thrice  in  //.,  (9.  160,  392  :  ro.  239),  and  once  in  Od. 
15<  533-     While  /ScurtXeus  is  always  a  title,  like  'duke,'  a«»a|  in  Homer 
is  a  descriptive  epithet,  like  'noble.'     Mr  Gladstone  (Homeric  Shidies, 

1.  543)  holds  that  the  formula  ovaf  avdp&v  is  applied  only  to  patriarchal 
chiefs — i.e.  to  /SayiX^ej  who  were  also  heads  of  ruling  families  or  clans. 
It  seems  hard  to  make  this  out.    The  formula  is  used  of  i.  Agamemnon: 

2.  Anchises:   3.  Aeneas:   4.  Augeias:   5.  Euphetes:  6.   Eumelus.     I 

would  suggest  a  metrical  reason.   Every  one  of  these  names  =  | ; 

hence,  in  the  Homeric  hexameter,  avaf  avdpuv  was  a  peculiarly  con- 
venient introduction  for  them;  and,  out  of  some  50  places  where  the 
lurmula  occurs,  it  precedes  the  2nd  half  of  the  5th  foot  in  all  but  one 
(n.  i.  7). 


48  HOMER.  [CH.  II. 

descent  from  a  god  or  demi-god.  The  king  is  (i)  leader  in 
war,  (2)  supreme  judge,  (3)  president  of  the  council  and  of 
the  popular  assembly.  (4)  In  public  sacrifices,  as  head  of 
the  state,  he  takes  the  same  part  which  the  head  of  a  family 
takes  in  private  sacrifice.  But  he  has  not  otherwise  a 
sacerdotal  quality1.  A  demesne  (re'/aevos)  is  assigned  to 
him  from  the  public  land2,  and  he  discharges  functions  of 
public  hospitality. 

Dike  and        io.     Homer  has  no  word  for  'law3.'      The  word  dikk 

ihemis.    («justice')  means  'a  way  pointed  out,'  and  so  the  'course 

which  usage  prescribes4.'     The  word  themis,  again,  means, 

'what  has  been  laid  down,'  i.e.,  first,  a  decision  in  a  par- 

1  Aristotle  (Politics  3.  14.   12,  speaking  of  the  kings  of  the  heroic 
age):  Kvptoi  5'  TJ<TO.V  rijs  re  /card.  irtiXefiov  yyt/j-ovias  Kal  rdv  Ovaiuv,  off  at 

.  ,u?j  lepariKat  (i.e.  sacrifices  requiring  a  priest  acquainted  with  special 
rites — like  those  of  the  Eumolpidae),  Kal  irpbs  TOVTOIS  rds  dtxas  tKptvoi>. 
The  sacrificial  function  alone  (he  adds)  remained  associated  with  the 
name  of  '  king '  in  most  Greek  states  (as  in  the  case  of  the  archon  basileus 
at  Athens);  while  at  Sparta  the  military  function  was  left  to  the  'kings'. 
Cp.  Thuc.  1.13  tirl  pT/rots  ytpaffi  irarpiKal  ^SaeriXetat. 

2  In  an  interesting  paper  on  'The  Homeric  Land  System'  (Joum. 
Hellen.  Stud.  VI.  319),  Prof.  W.  Ridgeway  holds  that  the  Homeric 
poems  indicate  the  'Common- Field'  system  of  agriculture, — the  public 
land  being  portioned  out,  in  temporary  tenure,   among  the  members 
of  the  community,   while   the   hereditary  king's  rfaevos   was   an   ex- 
ceptional instance  of  property  in  land.     He  shows  that  TroXi/Xijios  =  rich 
in  Xijt's  (live  stock,  as  opp.  to  inanimate  /crij/iara),  not  in  Xijtov  (standing 
corn);   and   explains   the   term   ovpa   (nfj.iovuv,  fiouv,  II.    to.  351)  as 
an  ancient  unit  of  land-measure, — viz.,  the  distance  between  the  first 
and   last   furrows  of  a  day's   ploughing.     But  it  is  more  difficult  to 
assume   that  tTri£vvq>  kv   dpovp-Q  (II.    11.  422)  means  the  public  field 
of  a  community.     It  seems  rather  to  mean  simply  a  field  in  which 
the  holdings  of  the  two  disputants  were  conterminous. 

8  Homer  has  only  VO/JLOS  (pasture),  never  v6/j.os. 

*  Curt.  Etym.  §  14.  The  use  of  dixy  as  ='way,'  'fashion'  (cp. 
the  adverbial  6kij^)  occurs  in  Od.  (as  n.  218  d\X'  avri)  Slio}  tarl  PPOTUV). 
The  plur.  in  Horn.  = 'judgments, '  as  //.  16.  543  oj  AvKlyv  etpvro  diKyvl 
re  Kal  ffOfrf'i  $.  In  Od.  9.  215,  which  describes  the  savage  Cyclops  as 
cure  3i/taj  ev  ttSora  ovre  BtpiffTas,  the  former  =' dooms,'  while 
the  latter  has  its  derived  sense,  precepts  of  justice.  Cp.  Maine, 
Ancient  Law,  ch.  I. 


CH.   II.]  THE    HOMERIC    WORLD.  49 

ticular   case,    '  a   doom ' ;    then,    the   custom    founded   on 
former  dooms.     The  plural  'themistes*  denotes  a  body  of 
such  precedents.     The  Homeric  king  is  entrusted  by  Zeus 
with  '  themistes '  in  the  sense  that  he  upholds  those  judicial 
precedents  on  which  the  rights  of  his  people  rest.     A  bad 
king  is  one  who  gives  'crooked  judgments'.'     The  Council  Council. 
(fiovXij)  consists  of  a  small  number  of  '  elders,'  whom  the 
king  convenes  for   the  purpose  of  laying  business  before 
them*.     The  Assembly  (dyoptj)  includes  all  the  free  men  Agora, 
of  the  realm. 

1 1.  The  Iliad  describes  the  life  of  a  Greek  camp.  The  Iliad. 
Council  is  there  composed  of  a  few  prominent  chiefs 
or  kings,  who  hold  the  same  relation  to  the  suzerain, 
Agamemnon,  as  local  elders  to  a  local  king.  The  Assem- 
bly is  the  body  of  the  fighting  men ;  the  chiefs  speak  before 
it,  and  the  Assembly  expresses  its  sense  by  shouts  or 
murmurs. 

The  Odyssey  describes  civil  life  in  a  society  partly  Odyssey. 
deranged  by  the  ten  years'  absence  of  its  heads  at  Troy. 
In  some  respects  the  monarchical  system  of  the  Iliad  might 
seem  to  be  undergoing  a  change,  (i)  Though  the  hereditary 
principle  is  still  acknowledged  in  the  Odyssey,  there  are 
hints  that  it  is  less  absolute  and  inviolable3.  (2)  The  Agora 

1  Zeus  has  given  into  the  king's  keeping  ffKrfirrpov  r  i)3£  01/uoras 
(//.  9.  99).  The  judges  uphold  judgments' by  the  authority  of  Zeus — 
5i/ca<T7r6\ot,  o?re  0^ut(TTas  |  irpbs  Aids  elpvarai,  II.  i.  238.  Corrupt  rulers: 
//.  16.  387  ot  fily  elv  d-yopfi  (TKoXtaJ  Kplvwai  Otfiiffras,  \  IK  5£  dlKijv 
i\&ffuffi,  0 e<j)v  6iriv  owe  dX^ovrtj. 

4  Gladstone,  Horn.  Stud.  in.  98:  'Upon  the  whole,  the  BoiAi? seems 
to  have  been  a  most  important  auxiliary  element  of  government ;  some- 
times as  preparing  materials  for  the  more  public  deliberations  of  the 
Assembly,  sometimes  intrusted,  as  a  kind  of  executive  committee,  with 
its  confidence;  always  as  supplying  the  Assemblies  with  an  intellectual 
and  authoritative  element,  in  a  concentrated  form,  which  might  give 
steadiness  to  its  tone,  and  advise  its  course  with  a  weight  equal  to  so 
important  a  function.'  In  //.  9.  70  ff.  we  have  an  instance  of  a  question 
referred  to  a  council  of  ytpovres,  as  to  a  committee,  after  an  dyopri. 

3  The  suitors  assume  that  Odysseus  is  dead  (Od.  i.  183);  the 
hereditary  claim  of  Telemachus  is  admitted  (i.  387  5  rot  yftfj  irarptai6v 

J-  4 


50  HOMER.  [CH.   11. 

seems  a  less  passive  body  than  in  the  Iliad.  It  appears 
as  an  effective  organ  of  civic  discussion '.  But  the  evidence 
on  these  points  is  very  slender;  and  allowance  must  be 
made  for  the  special  conditions  presupposed  by  the  subject 
of  the  Odyssey. 

Homeric        12.     The  basis  of  Homeric  religion  is  the  feeling  that 
religion.  t  ^  men  haye  need  of  thg  gods  ,  ^Qd  ^  ^  and  that  the 

gods  are  quickly  responsive  to  this  need,  if  they  are  duly 
worshipped.  Sacrifice  and  prayer  are  the  appointed  means 
of  seeking  their  help,  or  appeasing  their  anger.  The  Homeric 
sense  of  the  divine  placability  is  well  expressed  in  the 
words  of  the  aged  knight  Phoenix  to  the  implacable 
Achilles  (//.  9.  496  ff.) :  '  Achilles,  tame  thy  high  spirit ; 
neither  beseemeth  it  thee  to  have  a  ruthless  heart.  Nay, 
even  the  very  gods  can  bend,  and  theirs  withal  is  loftier 
Sacrifice,  majesty  and  honour  and  might.  Their  hearts  by  incense 
and  reverent  vows  and  drink-offering  and  burnt-offering 
men  turn  with  prayer,  so  oft  as  any  transgresseth  and 
Sin  and  doeth  wrong.  Moreover  Prayers  (Airai)  are  daughters 
Prayer.  of  ^g  great:  Zeus,  halting  and  wrinkled  and  of  eyes 
askance,  that  have  their  task  withal  to  go  in  the  steps 
of  Ate2.  For  Ate  is  strong  and  fleet  of  foot,  where- 
fore she  far  outrunneth  all  prayers,  and  goeth  before  them 
over  all  the  earth,  doing  hurt  to  men ;  and  Prayers  follow 
behind  to  heal  the  harm.'  The  loftiest  forms  which  human 
prayer  to  Heaven  assumes  in  Homer  are  seen  when 

tffru>);  and  yet  the  suitor  Antinous  hopes  (ib.  386)  that  Zeus  will 
not  'make  Telemachus  king'.  Mr  Gladstone  remarks  (Horn.  Stud.  in. 
51)  that  this  seems  to  imply  the  need  of  some  formal  act,  'either  ap- 
proaching to  election,  or  in  some  way  involving  a  voluntary  act  on  the 
part  of  the  subjects  or  a  portion  of  them.' 

1  In  Od.  2  Telemachus  appeals  to  the  Agora  of  the  Ithacans  to 
vindicate  his  rights,  and  a  debate  takes  place.     In  Od.  24.  420  ff.  it  is 
debated  by  the  Ithacans  in  the  Agora  whether  the  suitors  shall  be 
avenged. 

2  8.T1)  (dciw)  is  'hurt'  (done  to  the  mind).     Cp.  Milton,  Samson  1676, 
'among  them  He  a  spirit  of  phrenzy  sent,  |  Who  hurt  their  minds'. 
'Arj;  is  the  power  which  infatuates  men  (sometimes  as  a  punishment  for 
insolence)  so  that  they  become  reckless  in  offending  the  gods. 


CH.  II. j  THE   HOMERIC   WORLD.  51 

Hector,  going  out  to  war,  prays  to  all  the  gods  that  a 
noble  life  may  be  in  store  for  his  infant  son  (//.  6.  476); 
and  where  Achilles  prays  to  '  Zeus,  lord  of  Dodona,  Pelas- 
gian,  dwelling  afar,'  that  his  comrade  Patroclus  may  return 
safe  from  the  fight  (//.  16.  233).  In  sacrifice,  as  in  prayer, 
the  Homeric  man  ordinarily  communes  with  the  gods 
directly,  not  through  priests.  The  priest  (Upeus),  as  dis-  Priests, 
tinguished  from  the  soothsayer  (yuaWts),  never  appears  in 
Homer  save  as  the  guardian  of  a  local  shrine1. 

13.  In  later  Greek  poetry  Fate  is  sometimes  definitely  Fate, 
opposed,  and  superior,  to  the  will  of  the  gods.  This  is 
never  the  case  in  Homer.  Fate  and  the  gods  appear  as 
concurrent  and  usually  harmonious  agencies ;  there  is  no 
attempt  to  separate  them  distinctly,  or  to  define  precisely 
the  relation  in  which  they  stand  to  each  other.  The  idea  of 
Fate  is  expressed  chiefly  by  two  words,  both  meaning 
•'  portion,' — atcra  and  polpa.  The  personified  AZcra  weaves 
the  thread  of  a  mortal's  destiny,  and  assigns  it  to  him 
at  birth.  Like  aura,  polpa.  may  be  either  good  or  evil; 
but  the  personified  Moipa  is  regularly  associated  with  the 
Death-god,  Thanatos2.  Two  other  words  denote  the  death- 
doom ;  TTOT/U.OS  ('  what  falls  to  one '),  and  Kijp  ('  destruction') ; 
the  personified  K^p  (sometimes  plural)  is  the  goddess  who 
brings  a  violent  death,  especially  in  battle.  The  'three  Fates' 
are  a  post-Homeric  conception,  found  first  in  Hesiod8. 

The  Erinyes  in  Homer  are  avenging  powers  who  up-  Erinyes. 

1  Such  was  the  priest  of  Apollo  at  Chryse  in  the  Troad  (//.  i.  37); 
the  priest  of  Hephaestus  in  the  Troad  (//.  5.  10), — the  priest  of  Apollo 
at  Ismarus  in  Thrace  (Oaf.  g.  198),  etc.  There  are  only  two  places 
where  Homer  speaks  of  'priests'  in  the  plur. :  (i)  //.  9.  575,  where  the 
Aetolians  send  6ew»  lepfjas  dpi<rrovt  to  implore  help  from  Meleager — i.e. 
priests  of  the  chief  local  shrines :  (i)  II.  24.  121  17  ot/juu>Tits  eiffi  Ovouicdoi, 
i)  iepijes,  where  special  rites  are  in  view.  In  //.  16.  234  the  Selli  at  Do- 
dona  are  not  called  iep^es,  but  viro<p?iT(u  of  Zeus,  the  declarers  of  his  will. 

3  In  //.  24.  209  Mo?pa  is  the  weaver  of  a  death-doom. 

3  Theog.  218.  Plural  'Fates'  occur  only  in  //.  24.  49  r\rfrb»  >4p 
Moipat  0v/j.i>v  diffOLV  6.v6pwiroi<nv.  In  Od.  j.  197  vfifffrai  affffa  ol  alja 
XO.TO.  K\ia6ts  (v.  1.  KO.TaK\u6ts)  -re  ^apttat  |  feivoptvif  irfffavro  \lvtp,  these 
'spinners'  are  merely  'the  half-personified  agency  of  alcra,'  as  Mr 

4—2 


52  HOMER.  [CH.   II. 

hold  the  right,  alike  among  gods  and  among  men.  They 
punish  all  crimes  against  the  family ;  especially  they  execute 
the  curses  of  injured  parents  on  children.  They  do  not 
allow  the  aged  or  the  poor  to  be  wronged  with  impunity. 
They  bring  retribution  for  perjury.  In  a  word,  they  are  the 
sanctions  of  natural  law.  The  immortal  steed  Xanthus, 
suddenly  endued  with  human  speech  by  the  goddess  Hera, 
spoke  to  Achilles,  and  revealed  his  doom;  then  'the 
Erinyes  stayed  his  voice'  (//.  19.  418). 

The  gods  14.  As  compared  with  the  Iliad,  the  Odyssey  shows  a 
in  the  somewhat  more  spiritual  conception  of  the  divine  agency. 
The  vivid  physical  image  of  Olympus  and  the  Olympian 
court,  as  the  Iliad  presents  it,  has  become  more  etherial.  It 
is  a  far-off  place,  '  where,  as  they  say,  is  the  seat  of  the  gods 
that  standeth  fast  for  ever.  Not  by  winds  is  it  shaken,  nor 
ever  wet  with  rain,  nor  doth  the  snow  come  nigh  thereto, 
but  most  clear  air  is  spread  about  it  cloudless,  and  the 
white  light  floats  over  it.  Therein  the  blessed  gods 
are  glad  for  all  their  days'  (Od.  6.  42  ff.).  'The  gods,  in 
the  likeness  of  strangers  from  far  countries,  put  on  all 
manner  of  shapes,  and  wander  through  the  cities,  beholding 
the  violence  and  the  righteousness  of  men'  (Od.  17.  485). 
Divine  The  gods  of  the  Iliad  most  often  show  their  power  on 

agency     ^Q  bodies  or  the   material   fortunes   of  man  :    it  is  corn- 
more 
spiritual,  paratively  seldom  that  they  guide  his  mind,  by  inspiring 

a  thought  at  a  critical  moment.  In  the  Odyssey  the  latter 
form  of  divine  agency  becomes  more  prominent.  'When 
Athene,  of  deep  counsel,  shall  put  it  into  my  heart,  I  will 
nod  to  thee,'  says  Odysseus  to  his  son  (Od,  16.  282). 
Faith  in  their  help  has  become  a  more  spiritual  feeling. 
'  Consider  whether  Athene  with  Father  Zeus  will  suffice  for 
us  twain,  or  whether  I  shall  cast  about  for  some  other 
champion.'  'Verily,'  Telemachus  answers,  'the  best  of 
champions  are  these  two  thou  namest,  though  high  in  the 

Merry  remarks ;  comparing,  as  other  examples  of  personification 
stopping  short  of  mythology,  dpirviai,  the  personified  storm-winds. 
(Od.  i.  245),  and  Kparad^  (Od.  12.  124). 


CH.  II.]  THE   HOMERIC   WORLD.  53 

clouds  is  their  seat'  (ib.  260  fif.).     While  the  notion  of  the  Other 
gods   has   been   thus   far  spiritualised,   the   notion   of  the  ^T5 
supernatural  generally  takes  many  fantastic  forms1,  associated  super- 
with  that  outer  Wonderland,  beyond  the  Aegean  zone,  ofnatura1' 
which  sailors  had  brought  stories.     It  is  here  that  \ve  find 
those  beings  or  monsters  who  are  neither  gods  nor  men — 
Calypso,  Circe,  Polyphemus,  Proteus,  Aeolus,  Scylla,  the 
Sirens.  • 

15.     The  Homeric  notions  of  right  and  wrong  have  a  Homeric 
simplicity  answering  to  that  of  the  religion,  but  are  strongly  etnics- 
held.     They  begin  with  the  inner  circle  of  the  family.     The  The 
ties  of  the  family  are  sacred  in  every  relation, — between  a 
husband  and  wife,  parent  and  child,  kinsman  and  kinsman. 
Polygamy  is  not  found  among  Greeks.     The  picture  of  the 
Trojan  Hector  and  Andromache  in  the  Iliad — the  pictures 
of  Menelaus  and   Helen,  Alcinous  and  Arete,  above  all, 
Odysseus  and  Penelope,  in  the  Odyssey — attest  a  pure  and 
tender  conception   of  conjugal  affection.      The   prayer  of 
Odysseus  for  the  maiden  Nausicaa  is  this  : — '  May  the  gods 
grant  thee  all  thy  heart's  desire:   a  husband  and  a  home, 
and  a  mind  at  one  with  his  may  they  give — a  good  gift,  for 
there  is  nothing  mightier  and  nobler  than  when  man  and 
wife  are  of  one  heart  and  mind  in  a  house'  (Od.  6.  180  ff.). 
Dependents  of  the  family  are  included  in  the  recognised 
duty  of  kindness  and  help.     So  are  those  who  have  a  claim 

1  E.g.  the  herb  'moly',  given  by  Hermes  to  Odysseus  as  a  charm 
against  Circe's  evil  spells  (Od.  10.  302) ;  the  'imperishable  veil'  of  Ino, 
which  saved  Odysseus  from  drowning  (ib.  5.  346) ;  the  flesh  'bellowing 
on  the  spits',  when  the  oxen  of  the  Sun  were  being  roasted  by  the  com- 
panions of  Odysseus  (ib.  12.  395);  the  Phaeacian  ship  suddenly  turned  to 
stone  (ib.  13.  163);  the  second -sight  of  the  seer  Theoclymenus,  when  he 
forebodes  the  death  of  the  suitors  (compared  by  Mr  Lang  to  the  visions 
of  Bergthora  and  Njal  in  the  Story  of  Burnt  Njalu.  167) : — 'Shrouded 
in  night  are  your  heads  and  your  faces  and  your  knees,  and  kindled  is 
th*  voice  of  wailing,  and  all  cheeks  are  wet  with  tears,  and  the  walls 
and  the  fair  beams  of  the  roof  are  sprinkled  with  blood'  (Od. 
20.  351  ff.).  In  the  Iliad  the  nearest  analogies  to  such  marvels  are  the 
speaking  horse  (19.  407),  the  self-moving  tripods  of  Hephaestus  (18.  376), 
and  his  golden  handmaids,  who  can  move,  speak  and  think  (ib.  418). 


54  HOMER.  [CH.   II. 

Strangers  on  hospitality :  '  for  all  strangers  and  beggars  are  from  Zeus' 

a£antsP~  ^Od'  6<  2°8)'  The  suPPliant  (i*€/T>7s)  must  be  protected, 
even  when  he  seeks  refuge  from  the  consequences  of 
blood-shed  (//.  16  573);  for  the  Zeus  of  Suppliants  has 
him  in  keeping  (Od.  13.  213),  and  will  punish  wrong  done 
to  him  (//.  24.  570). 

Slavery.  1 6.  Slavery  in  Homer  wears  a  less  repulsive  aspect  than 
in  later  periods  of  antiquity.  It  is  the  doom  for  prisoners 
of  war,  however  noble  their  birth:  and  instances  are  also 
mentioned  of  children,  belonging  to  good  families,  being 
kidnapped  by  pirates  or  merchants  (Od.  15.  403  ff.).  It  is 
recognised  as  an  awful  calamity  :  '  Zeus  takes  away  the  half 
of  his  manhood  from  a  man,  when  the  day  of  slavery  over- 
takes him'  (Od.  17.  322).  But  the  very  feeling  for  human 
dignity  which  this  implies  may  have  helped  to  temper  the 
slave's  lot.  The  Odyssey  furnishes  examples  of  devotedly 
attached  slaves,  and  there  is  no  Homeric  instance  of  a  cruel 
master.  Homeric  slavery  seems  to  be  domestic  only,  the 
slave  being  employed  in  the  house  or  on  the  land :  we  do 
not  hear  of  serfs  bound  to  the  soil1.  Besides  the  slaves 
(8/xwes)  there  are  also  free  hired  labourers  (f^res:  Od.  4.  644). 
Limit  17.  Themis,  the  custom  established  by  dooms,  acts  as 

sphere  of  a  restraining  force  within  the  largest  circle  of  recognised 
themis.  relationships.  But  outside  of  that  circle — when  the  Greek 
has  to  do  with  a  mere  alien — themis  ceases  to  act,  and 
we  are  in  an  age  of  violence.  Excommunication,  political 
and  social,  is  expressed  by  the  form,  '  outside  of  clan, 
custom,  and  hearth'2.  The  life  of  a  man-slayer  was  for- 
feit to  the  kinsmen  of  the  slain,  who  might,  however, 
accept  a  fine  (iroinj)  as  satisfaction.  Speaking  generally, 

1  In  Od.  i.  489,  indeed,  tirdpovpos  has  been  taken  zs,  =  adscriptus 
glebae;  but  it  need  not  be  more  than  an  epithet  describing  the  par- 
ticular kind  of  work  on  which  the  6-/js  was  employed. 

*  II.  9.  63  6.<f>p-fiTwp,  dtf^uicTTos,  dviffrios.  Hence,  and  from  i.  362  f., 
I  had  inferred  that,  above  the  Homeric  family,  was  the  unity  of  the 
clan  (<f>priTpr)),  and  then  of  the  tribe  (<pv\ov):  ist  ed.,  p.  54.  But 
I  grant  that  such  a  relationship  cannot  be  proved  for  the  Homeric  age. 
Homer  knows  no  gentile  sacra. 


CH.  II.]  THE    HOMERIC   WORLD.  55 

we  may  say  that  the  Homeric  Greeks  appear  as  a  gentle 
and  generous  race  in  a  rude  age.     There  is  no  trace  among 
the  Homeric  Greeks  of  oriental  vice  or  cruelty  in  its  worst 
forms.     Their  sense  of  decency  and  propriety  is  remarkably 
fine — even    in    some   points   in   which    their  descendants 
were  less  delicate.     If  the    Homeric   man   breaks   themis  Aidos. 
in   any  way,  he   feels   that   others   will   disapprove.     This 
feeling   is   called   aides.      Hence,    therefore,   aidos  has   as 
many  shades  of  meaning  as  there  are  ways  in  which  themis 
can  be  broken; — 'sense  of  honour,'  'shame,'  'reverence,' 
etc.      And   the   feeling   with   which  he   himself  regards   a  Nemesis, 
breach  of  themis  by  another  person   is   called  nemesis, — 
righteous  indignation.      The  Odyssey,  in  comparison  with  Odyssey 
the  Iliad,  shows  more  traces  of  reflection  on  questions  of  wj™!  //?w. 
right  and  wrong.     There  are  some  additions  to  the  stock  of 
words  for  expressing  the  religious  or  moral  feelings1. 

1 8.  The  civilisation  based  on  these  ideas  and  feelings  The  Ho- 
was  very  unlike  that  of  the  later  Greek  world.  The  Homeric 
man  already  exhibits,  indeed,  the  clear-cut  Greek  type  of 
humanity :  he  has  its  essential  qualities,  mental  and  moral. 
But  all  his  surroundings  bespeak  an  age  of  transition. 
Crude  contrasts  abound.  Luxuries  and  splendours  of  an 
eastern  cast  are  mingled  with  elements  of  squalid  barbarism. 
Manners  of  the  noblest  chivalry  and  the  tmest  refinement 
are  strangely  crossed  by  traits  of  coarseness  or  ferocity. 
There  are  moments  when  the  Homeric  hero  is  almost  a 
savage2. 

1  Thus  the  following  words  occur  in  the  Odyssey,  but  not  in  the 
Iliad: — (i)  &yvn,  epithet  of  Artemis,  of  Persephone,  and  of  a  festival, 

rf.  (i)  offli),  'piety'  (the  only  part  of  6Vtos  found  in  either  poem):  (3) 
^t,  'god-fearing',  as  epithet  of  POOS  or  0i»//.6s:  (4)  voijuwv  (found  in 
//.  only  as  a  proper  name),  =  ' right-minded"  (always  with  3//ceuoj), — 
nearly  =  the  later  ffwQpuv,  which  does  not  occur  in  Homer.  The  word 
5licau>s  is  frequent  in  the  Odyssey,  while  the  Iliad  has  only  the  superlative 
(once)  and  the  comparative  (twice),  but  the  positive  nowhere. 

3  Thus  the  Homeric  man,  even  the  noblest,  is  liable  to  savage  out- 
bursts of  fury, — like  that  in  which  the  Macedonian  Alexander  slew  his 
friend  Cleitus, — though  not,  as  in  that  case,  kindled  by  wine.  Patroclu? 


56  HOMER.  [CH.   II. 

Archaeo-  19.  Homer  gives  some  general  notion  of  the  extent  to 
evidence  wn^cn  tne  usenil  and  ornamental  arts  had  been  developed ; 
and  in  some  points  this  literary  evidence  can  now  be  sup- 
plemented by  evidence  from  monuments  of  archaeology1. 
The  poet  naturally  assumes  that  his  hearers  are  familiar 
with  the  products  to  which  he  refers.  Hence  the  in- 
dications which  he  gives  are  often  slight.  Nor  can  any 
real  help  be  derived  from  the  scenes  depicted  on  vases 
or  reliefs  of  the  classical  Greek  age,  which  clothe 
Homeric  life  in  the  garb  of  the  sixth  or  fifth  century  B.C. 
The  only  monuments  which  can  be  trusted  for  the 
illustration  of  Homer  are  those  of  an  earliei  date.  As 
the  Homeric  poems  show,  the  field  over  which  such 
testimony  may  be  sought  is  a  wide  one.  Agamemnon 
received  a  breast-plate  from  the  king  of  Cyprus.  Menelaus 
recei ved  a  mixing-bowl  from  the  king  of  Sidon.  Helen's  silver 
work-basket  on  wheels  came  from  Egyptian  Thebes.  A  Phoe- 
nician merchant  showed  a  necklace  of  amber  and  gold  to  the 
mother  of  Eumaeus.  Priam  offered  Achilles  a  Thracian  cup a. 
Use  of  20.  The  power  of  working  stone  is  implied  in  the 

'n€'       Homeric   mention   of  mill-stones,    quoits,   and   sepulchral 

slew  the  son  of  Amphidamas  '  in  wrath  over  a  game  of  knuckle-bones' 
(//.  23.  88).  Achilles,  the  very  embodiment  of  chivalry,  fears  lest  the 
wild  beast  within  him  should  leap  forth,  and  he  should  slay  Priam — the 
aged  and  helpless  king,  his  guest,  and  his  suppliant  (//.  24.  568 — 586). 

1  This  evidence  has   been  brought    into    relation  with  the    evi- 
dence of  the   Homeric  text  by  Dr  W.  Helbig  in  his  compact  and 
comprehensive  work,  Das  Homerische  Epos  aus  Jen  Denkmalern  erlatdert 
(Leipzig,  Teubner,  1884). 

2  The  chief  sources  of  archaeological  evidence  for  Homer  are  discussed 
by  Helbig,  pp.  i — 59.    They  are  (i)  Phoenician:  (2)  archaic  Greek  and 
Italian  :  (3)  Northern — e.g.,  an  archaic  bronze  hydria  has  been  found  at 
Grachwyl  in  Switzerland.     In  the  Aegean  zone,  the  chief  groups  of 
relevant  'finds'  have  been  at   i.   Hissarlik:    2.   Thera:    3.  lalysos  in 
Rhodes:  4.  Mycenae  (where  Helbig  would  put  the  remains  before  the 
Dorian  conquest, — i.e.  earlier  than  fire,  noo  B.C. — but  not  long  before 
the  Homeric  times):  5.  Spata  in  Attica:  6.  The  Dipylon  at  Athens, 
where — in  graves  of  a  later  age  (fire.  700  —  500  B.C.)  than  the  five  pre- 
ceding groups — vases  have  been  found  with  designs  more  nearly  Homeric 
than  any  others  known, — though  the  ships  depicted  are  un-Homeric  in 
one  point,  as  having  beaks  (which  do  not  occur  before  800 — 700  B.C.: 
PP-  54—59)- 


CH.  II. J  THE   HOMERIC   WORLD.  57 

slabs  (o-T^Aai).  The  chambers  in  Priam's  palace  are 
built  of  'polished  stone';  and  so  is  Circe's  house  (Od. 
10.  210).  But  the  use  of  wood  in  house-building  of  the 
humbler  sort  was  probably  more  general  than  that  of  stone. 
Homer  nowhere  mentions  stone  statues,  or  figure-sculpture 
on  stone.  He  knows  no  treatment  of  stone  for  decorative 
purposes  beyond  hewing  and  polishing  (denoted  by  the 
word  leoros)1. 

2 1.  The  house  of  the  Homeric  chief  is  most  clearly  exem-  The 
plified  by  the  house  of  Odysseus',  the  general  arrangement 
of  which  is  shown  in  the  accompanying  plan".  It  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  high  and  massive  stone  wall,  probably  of 
the  rude  and  irregular  structure  known  as  'Cyclopean'. 
In  this  defensive  wall  there  was  only  one  opening,  viz.  the 
front  gate,  with  large  and  solid  folding-doors.  Outside 
the  wall,  on  each  side  of  the  gate,  stone  seats  were 
placed  On  passing  through  this  gateway  (n-podvpov)  in 
the  outer  wall,  the  visitor  found  himself  in  a  court-yard 
(auXif,  ep»cos).  This  was  open  to  the  air.  It  was  not  paved.  The 
It  was,  in  fact,  like  a  farm -yard,  and  quite  as  dirty8.  Small  cc 
chambers  (flaAcyuu),  built  at  the  sides  of  the  court-yard, 
against  the  outer  wall,  served  as  farm-buildings,  as  sleeping- 
rooms  for  male  slaves,  and  sometimes  even  for  members  of 
the  family4.  In  the  midst  of  the  court-yard  stood  the  altar 
of  'Zeus  of  the  Court'  (Zeus  Herkeios),  the  symbol  of 
domestic  unity6. 

22.     Standing    at    the    front  gate,    where    he    entered,  The 
the  visitor    sees    a    portico,    supported    by    pillars,   run-  aet^usa 
ning  along  the  inner  side  of  the  court-yard,  opposite   to  domus. 

1  Helbig,  pp.  71—73. 

2  Based   on  that   given  by  Mr  John  Protodikos  in  his  essay  De 
Aedibus  Homcricis  (Leipsic,  1877). 

8  Argos,  the  dog  of  Odysseus,  lay  on  a  huge  dung-heap  in  the  court- 
yard of  the  house  (Od.  17.  197). 

4  In  two  cases,  at  least,  an  unmarried  son  of  the  house  has  a  0o\a/*o* 
in  the  av\r) — Phoenix  (//.  9.  471  ff.)  and  Telemachus  (Od.  19.  48). 

5  Od.  12.  334 :  here  the  master  of  the  house  offered  sacrifice.     In 
Soph.  Ant.  487  6  *•<£$  ZeiVEpAcetos  =  'the  whole  family.' 


58  HOMEK.  [CH.  II. 

him.      This  portico  is  the  'aethusa'  (aWova-a),  specially  so 
called.     The  space  covered  by  it  is  called  the  prodomus 


MYXOi  AOMOY 
OAAAMO*     OAYtfEfH 


DC 


OHSAYPO* 


OAAAMO* 
OTTAfl.N 


TYNAIKHNITI^ 


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THE  HOMERIC  HOUSE  OF  THE  ODYSSEY. 

or  'fore-hall,'  as  being  immediately  in  front 
of  the  great  hall,  to  which  it  served  as  a  kind  of  vestibule. 
Hence  aethusa  and  prodomus  are  sometimes  used  con- 
vertibly ;  as  when  a  person  who  sleeps  under  the  aethusa  is 
said  to  sleep  in  the  prodomus.  Guests,  even  of  high 
distinction,  were  sometimes  lodged  there  for  the  night1. 

1  As  Telemachus  and  Peisistratus,  in  the  house  of  Menelaus  at 
Sparta.    Helen  orders  beds  to  be  prepared  for  them  vif  alOovay  (Od.  4. 


CH.   II.]  THE    HOMERIC    WORLD.  59 

The  term  '  aethusa  '  itself  was  a  general  one,  being  merely 
the  epithet  of  a  portico  which  is  open  to  the  sun's  rays 
(aWfiv).  Another  portico,  similar  to  that  of  the  pro- 
domus, ran  along  the  opposite  side  of  the  court,  on  each 
side  of  the  gateway  (-n-poOvpov),  and,  sometimes  at  least, 
along  the  two  other  sides  of  the  court  also,  which  then  had 
a  colonnade  running  all  round  it,  —  the  peristyle  (TrepwrruAov) 
of  later  times.  Hence  the  Homeric  phrase,  '  he  drove  out 
of  the  gateway  and  the  echoing  portico'  (//.  24.  323). 
Hence,  too,  the  prodomus  (with  its  portico)  can  be  dis- 
tinguished from  the  aWova-a  aOA?/s,  which  then  means  the 
colonnade  on  the  opposite  side,  or  the  other  sides,  of 
the  court  (//.  9.  472  f.). 

23.  From  the  prodomus  a  door  led  into  the  great  hall  The 
(/Lu'yapov,  Sw/xa).  In  the  house  of  Odysseus,  this  door  has  a  m 
threshold  of  ash  (/u.e'Aivos  ou'So's,  Od.  17.  339),  while  the 
opposite  door,  leading  from  the  great  hall  to  the  women's 
apartments,  has  a  threshold  of  stone  (AcuVos,  Od,  20.  258). 
Each  threshold,  as  appears  from  the  story,  was  somewhat 
raised  above  the  level  of  the  floor.  In  one  of  the  side-walls 
of  the  hall,  near  the  upper  end,  was  a  postern  (opa-oOvprf), 
also  raised  above  the  floor,  and  opening  on  a  passage 
(Xavptj)  which  ran  along  the  outside  of  the  hall,  communi- 
cating both  with  the  court  and  with  the  back  part  of 
the  house.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  hall  was  the 
hearth  (cVxap^),  at  which  all  the  cooking  was  done;  for 
the  hall  served  both  as  kitchen  and  as  dining-room.  Not 
only  the  guests  but  the  retainers  of  the  Homeric  prince 
live  and  eat  with  him  in  the  hall,  —  a  number  of  small 
tables  (one  for  every  two  persons,  as  a  rule)  being  ranged  in 
it  from  end  to  end;  in  the  house  of  Odysseus,  upwards 
of  sixty  such  tables  must  have  been  in  use.  In  this 
respect  the  home-life  of  the  Achaean  basileus  resembled 
that  of  the  medieval  baron  or  the  Scandinavian  chief. 


197)'  and  they  sleep  tv  irpoW/tv  (ib.  301).  So  aidofo-g  in  //.  24.  644 
=  irpo36/t<f>  ib-  673.  If  Odysseus,  in  his  humble  disguise,  is  fain  to  take 
a  rough  'shake-down'  in  a.Wov<ra,  the  slight  is  not  in  the  place  but  in 
the  mode  (Od.  10.  i). 


60  HOMER.  [CH.   II. 

24.  The  women's  part  of  the  house  was  an  inner  court, 
immediately  beyond  the  great  hall,  with  which  it  was  in 
direct  communication  by  the  door  with  the  stone  thresh- 
The  old.  The  women's  apartments  are  sometimes  collec- 
women  s  tively  called  thalamos1.  They  included  the  private  room, 
ments.  or  rooms,  of  the  mistress  of  the  house  (to  which,  in 
Penelope's  case,  access  was  given  by  stairs),  and  the  work- 
rooms of  the  women  slaves.  In  the  house  of  Odysseus,  the 
strong-room  or  treasury  for  precious  possessions  (#170-01  vpo's), 
and  the  armoury  (0aAa/Aos  orr\<av),  were  also  in  this  region. 
The  phrase  /AUX°S  &VAOU,  'innermost  part  of  the  house?'  is 
sometimes  so  used  as  to  indicate  a  part  beyond  the  women's 
court.  Here,  in  the  house  of  Odysseus,  was  probably  the 
chamber,  built  by  himself,  enclosing  the  bed  of  which 
the  head-post  was  an  olive-stump  (Od.  23.  192), — the 
sign  by  which  he  finally  convinced  Penelope  of  his 
identity2. 

Analogy  Thus  the  general  plan  of  the  Homeric  house  is 
Greek*  essentially  that  of  the  Greek  house  in  historical  times, 
house.  There  is  an  outer  court, — the  Homeric  aule,  the  later  an- 

1  From  the  collective  thalamos — as  a  whole  part  of  the  house — dis- 
tinguish the  plur.  6a\a/j.oi,  said  of  the  small  chambers  against  the  walls 
of  the  court-yard.    So  from  megaron,  in  its  special  sense — the  public 
hall — distinguish  /j-tyapa,  said  of  work-rooms  for  the   women  in  the 
thalamos  (Od.  19.  16). 

2  See  Protodikos,  p.  60.     Some  points  in  regard  to  the  Odyssean 
house  remain  doubtful,     (i)  What  was  the  circular  0o\os  in  the  av\tj? 
(Od.   22.    442).     Perhaps,    as  some  of  the  ancients   thought,   and  as 
Protodikos  thinks  (p.  24),  a  rctjuetoj/, — i.e.  a  sort  of  pantry,  in  which 
plates,    dishes,    cups,    etc.,   were    kept.     (2)   What   were   the  puyes 
fteyapoiol  (Od.   22.   143).     I  have   elsewhere   (Journ.   Hellen.   Stud.) 
given  reasons  for  thinking  that   they   mean   the    'narrow   passages,' 
leading  from  the  6pffo6vpa  to  the  back-part  of  the  house.     The  Neo- 
Hellenic  povya  is  used  in  a  like  sense,  and  seems  to  be  descended  from 
the  Homeric  word  (evidently  once  a  familiar  one).     The  Low  Latin 
ruga   (Fr.    rue)  is  not  a  probable  source  for  it.    (3)  What  were  the 
neffodnai?  (Od.  19.  37.)     Probably  the  main  (or  longitudinal)  beams  in 
the  roof  of  the   megaron,   while   Soicol  were  the  transverse  beams ; 
as    Protodikos    holds    (p.    37).     Buchholz    (Horn.    Realien,   p.     109) 
reverses  the  relation  of  doxol  and  (j.eff68nat. 


CH.  II.]  THE    HOMERIC   WORLD.  6l 

dronitis.  There  is  an  inner  court  for  the  women,  with 
rooms  round  it, — the  Homeric  thalamos,  the  later  gynae- 
conltis.  And  between  the  two  there  is  the  principal  room 
of  the  house,  in  which  the  host  and  his  guests  eat, — the 
Homeric  megaron  or  doma,  the  later  andron^. 

25.  The  public  hall  (megaron)  in  the  house  of  Odysseus,  Interior 
— a  typical  palace, — is  not  floored  with  wood  or  stone.  The  fitt]nf s 
floor  is  merely  earth  trodden  to  hardness.  There  is,  how-  coration, 
ever,  a  long  raised  threshold  of  ash-wood  inside  the  door  etc* 
leading  to  the  court-yard,  and  a  similar  threshold  of  stone 
inside  the  door  leading  to  the  thalamos.  In  the  megaron 
of  Alcinous,  the  walls  are  covered  with  plates  of  bronze, — 
a  mode  of  ornamentation  which  had  come  into  the  Hellenic 
countries  from  Asia,  and  which  continued  to  be  used  in  the 
East  for  many  centuries.  Traces  of  it  appear  in  the 
Treasuries  of  Mycenae  and  Orchomenus.  Portions  of  the 
wood-work  in  the  Homeric  palace,  especially  doors  and 
door-posts,  may  also  have  been  overlaid  with  gold  or  silver. 
The  cyanus  (/cvavos),  which  adorned  the  cornice  in  the 
hall  of  Alcinous  (Od.  7.  87),  was  formerly  interpreted 
as  bronze  or  blue  steel.  But  there  is  now  little  doubt  that 
it  was  a  kind  of  blue  glass  paste,  used  as  an  artificial 
substitute  for  the  natural  ultramarine  obtained  by  pul- 
verising the  sapphire  (lapis  lazuli)2.  The  brilliant  effect 
of  the  metallic  wall-plating  and  other  decoration  in  the 
palace  of  Alcinous  is  marked  by  the  phrase,  'a  radiance 
of  the  sun  or  of  the  moon'  (Od.  7.  84),  which  is  also 
applied  to  the  palace  of  Menelaus  at  Sparta  (Od.  4.  45). 
The  poet  of  the  Iliad,  on  the  other  hand,  ascribes  such 

1  With  regard  to  the  house  at  Tiryns,  see  Note  at  the  end  of  the 
book.  The  origin  and  age  of  that  house  are  doubtful ;  but  it  certainly 
is  not  the  Homeric  house  of  the  Odyssey. 

•  See  Helbig,  pp.  79 — 82.  The  explanation  was  first  suggested  by 
R.  Lepsius.  The  locus  classicus  is  Theophrastus  jrepi  \idtav  §  55,  who 
distinguishes  the  natural  xuavoj  (airro^wjs),  or  lapis  lazuli,  from  the 
artificial  ((r/cei/aoroj).  Fragments  of  an  alabaster  frieze,  inlaid  at 
intervals  with  small  pieces  of  blue  glass,  were  found  at  Tiryns. 
Their  age  is  uncertain. 


62  HOMER.  [CH.   II. 

decoration  to  no  mortal's  house — perhaps  simply  be- 
cause he  has  no  occasion  to  describe  the  interior  of 
a  palace;  but  he  calls  the  house  of  the  god  Poseidon 
'golden',  and  that  of  the  god  Hephaestus  'brazen'.  Metal- 
plating  on  wood  or  other  material  must  be  understood 
by  the  epithet  'golden'  or  'silvern'  as  applied  to  several 
objects  in  both  epics.  Such  are  the  'golden'  sceptre, 
wand,  distaff,  bread-basket,  chair,  etc.;  the  'silvern'  wool- 
basket,  chest,  table,  etc.  The  hall  was  at  once  lighted 
and  warmed  by  large  braziers  (Xa/ATrr^pcs), — three  of  which 
are  brought  in  by  the  maid-servants  of  Odysseus  at  night- 
fall; they  light  the  fires  with  dry  faggots,  and  take  turns  in 
watching  to  replenish  them  (Od.  18.  307).  The  smoke 
from  the  braziers  and  the  hearth  sufficed  to  blacken 
the  bows,  spears,  and  other  arms  hung  on  the  walls  (Od.  16. 
290).  The  outlet  for  the  smoke  may  have  been  an  opening 
in  the  roof,  though  Homer  mentions  nothing  of  the  kind1. 
Social  26.  The  social  manners  of  the  time,  in  the  house  of  a  chief 

manners.  Q^  ^  hjghest.  rank,  may  be  gathered  from  the  reception  of 
Telemachus  and  his  friend  (Nestor's  son  Peisistratus)  at  the 
palace  of  Menelaus  in  Sparta.  The  travellers,  in  a  chariot 
drawn  by  two  horses,  drive  up  to  the  outer  gate  of  the 
court-yard.  A  retainer  (Oepdiruv)  informs  the  master  of  the 
house,  and  is  ordered  at  once  to  unyoke  the  horses,  and  to 
conduct  the  strangers  (whose  names  are  as  yet  unknown) 
into  the  house.  Accordingly  the  horses  are  stabled,  and  the 
strangers  are  led  into  the  great  hall — which  astonishes  them 
by  its  splendour.  Thence  they  are  ushered  to  baths. 
Having  bathed,  anointed  themselves  with  olive-oil  and  put 
on  fresh  raiment,  they  return  to  the  great  hall,  where  their 
host  Menelaus  receives  them.  They  are  placed  on  chairs 
beside  him.  A  hand-maid  brings  a  silver  basin  and  a 
golden  ewer,  from  which  she  pours  water  over  their  hands. 
A  polished  table  is  then  placed  beside  them.  'A  grave 
1  Such  a  hole  or  smoke-vent  (KairvoSoKii,  Ion.  for  KavvoSoxt) — the 
Attic  Kdirvr)  or  oir-rj)  belongs  to  the  earliest  form  of  Graeco-Roman  house : 
cp.  Her.  8. 137. — In  Od.  \.  320  dvoiraia  has  been  taken  as  'up  the  smoke- 
vent';  but  probably  it  means  simply  'upwards':  see  Merry  ad  he. 


CH.   II.]  THE    HOMERIC   WORLD.  63 

dame'  (the  house-keeper)  brings  bread  (in  baskets),  and 
'  many  dainties ' ;  while  a  carver  places  on  the  table 
'platters  of  divers  kinds  of  flesh",  and  golden  bowls  for 
wine.  Menelaus  then  invites  them  to  eat,  and,  as  a  special 
mark  of  honour,  sets  before  them,  with  his  own  hands,  a 
roast  ox-chine.  He  does  not  yet  know  who  his  guests 
are ;  but,  when  he  mentions  Odysseus  in  conversation,  tears 
come  into  the  eyes  of  Telemachus,  who  raises  his  purple 
mantle  to  hide  them. 

Menelaus  is  musing  on  this,  when  the  mistress  of  the  house 
enters  the  hall*.  Helen,  in  her  radiant  beauty,  comes  from 
the  inner,  or  women's,  part  of  the  house — 'the  fragrant  tha- 
lamos' — attended  by  three  hand-maids.  She  takes  a  chair, 
to  which  a  foot-stool  is  attached ;  at  her  side  a  maiden  places 
a  silver  basket,  on  wheels,  full  of  dressed  yarn;  and  lays 
across  it  a  golden  distaff,  charged  with  wool  of  violet  blue. 
She  and  her  lord  converse  with  their  guests  until  the  night 
is  far  spent.  Then  supper  is  served,  and  Helen  casts  into 
the  wine  a  soothing  drug  which  she  had  brought  from 
Egypt, — 'a  drug  to  lull  all  pain  and  anger,  and  bring 
forgetfulness  of  every  sorrow.'  Presently  attendants,  with 
torches,  show  the  two  guests  to  their  beds  in  the  porch, — 

1  In  the  Homeric  world,  fish  is  not  mentioned  as  a  delicacy — rather 
it  is  regarded  as  the  last  resource  of  hunger  (Od,  12.  329  ff.,  Od.  4.  368). 
The  similes  from  fishing  point  .to  the  use  of  fish  by  poor  people  who 
could  command  no  other  animal  food. 

-  Helen  in  her  own  house  at  Sparta  is  the  best  example  of  the 
Homeric  woman's  social  position — as  Nausicaa  is  the  best  proof  that  the 
poet  perfectly  apprehended  all  that  is  meant  by  the  word  '  lady '.  In 
comparing  the  Homeric  place  of  woman  with  her  apparently  lower  place 
in  historical  Greece,  two  things  should  be  borne  in  mind,  (i)  The  only 
Homeric  women  of  whom  we  hear  much  are  the  wives  of  chiefs  or 
princes,  who  share  the  position  of  th'eir  husbands.  The  women  of 
whom  we  hear  most  from  the  Attic  writers  belong  to  relatively  poor 
households :  their  social  sphere  is  necessarily  more  confined.  (2)  The 
intellectual  progress  made  between  800  and  500  B.C.  was  for  the  men, 
and  only  in  exceptional  cases  for  the  women.  The  Homeric  woman  of 
950  B.C.  was  probably  a  better  companion  for  her  husband  than  the  Attic 
woman  of  450  B.C. 


64  HOMER.  [CH.  II. 

where  bedsteads  have  been  set,  with  purple  blankets,  and 
coverlets  and  thick  mantles  thereon  (Od.  4.   20 — 305). 
A  con-  If  we  contrast  this  picture  with  that  of  the  suitors  in 

trast.  Ithaca  we  feel  the  skill  and  delicacy  of  the  poet's  touch.  In 
the  house  of  Menelaus,  Homer  presents  a  scene  of  noble  and 
refined  hospitality;  in  the  invaded  house  of  Odysseus  he 
means  to  describe  a  scene  of  coarse  riot.  When  one  of 
the  suitors  snatches  up  an  ox's  foot  from  a  basket,  and 
throws  it  at  Odysseus — missing  him,  and  hitting  the  wall 
(Od.  20.  299  ff.) — we  are  not  to  infer  that  incidents  of  this 
kind  were  characteristic  of  good  Homeric  society. 
Homeric  27.  The  dress  of  the  Homeric  man  is  a  shirt  or  tunic 
dress.  (chiton) ',  and  over  that  a  mantle  {chlatnaf,  which  answers 
to  the  outer  garment  called  himation  in  the  classical  age. 
The  Homeric  woman  wears  a  robe  (peplus)  reaching  to  the 
feet.  On  her  head  she  sometimes  wears  a  high,  stiff  coif, 
(Ke/cpv<£aA.os),  over  the  middle  of  which  passes  a  many- 
coloured  twisted  band  (TrXe/cT^  avaSeV/u,^)3,  while  a  golden 
fillet  glitters  at  the  front.  Either  from  the  coif,  or  directly 
from  the  crown  of  the  head,  a  veil  (KprjSf/j-vov,  KaX-vTrrprj) 
falls  over  shoulders  and  back. 

In  imagining  such  a  scene  as  Helen  standing  on 
the  walls  of  Troy  with  Priam  and  the  Trojan  elders 
(//.  3),  the  general  picture  (Helbig  remarks)  which  we 
should  conceive  as  present  to  the  poet's  mind  is  one 
dominated  by  the  conventional  forms  and  brilliant  colours4 

J  In  //.  13.  685  the'LWes  (probably  Athenians)  are  called  eXKexiruves, 
'tunic-trailing' — i.e.  wearing  the  long  tunic  which  reached  below  the 
knee  (XJLT&V  re/>/uoeis).  This  was  once  worn  by  Dorians  as  well  as 
lonians,  but  was  never  the  ordinary  garment  of  daily  life — being  worn 
only  (i)  by  elders  or  men  of  rank,  (2)  by  other  persons  on  festal  occasions. 
The  Homeric  poet,  when  he  said  AKex'Twm,  was  perhaps  thinking  of 
an  Ionian  festival,  such  as  that  at  Delos.  See  Helbig,  pp.  ngff. 

-  Or  <t>apos,  Od.  6.  214. 

3  Schliemann   assumed   that   the   TrXeKrJj   dva.5tcr/j.-r)  was   a  golden 
frontlet.     Helbig  points  out  the  error  (p.  158),  which  the  word  irXe/cr^ 
itself  refutes.     A  frontlet  would  have  been  ti.fj.Trv!-. 

4  The  Homeric  vocabulary  of  colour  marks  vividly  the  distinction 
between  dark  and  light  (or  bright),  but  very  imperfectly  the  distinctions 


CH.  II.]  THE    HOMERIC   WORLD.  65 

of  the  East, — not  by  the  free  dignity  and  harmonious 
symmetry  of  mature  Greek  art.  Priam  and  the  elders  of 
Troy  wear  close-fitting  tunics,  which  in  some  cases  reach 
to  the  feet — over  these,  red  or  purple  mantles,  which 
fall  straight  and  foldless, — some  of  them  embroidered  with 
rich  patterns, — the  king's  mantle,  perhaps,  with  the  picture 
of  a  fight.  Their  upper  lips  are  shaven ;  they  have  wedge- 
shaped  beards;  their  hair  falls  over  their  cheeks  in  long 
locks  fastened  with  golden  spirals.  Helen  wears  a  richly- 
embroidered  robe  (peplus},  which  fits  -close  to  her  form ;  a 
costly  perfume  breathes  from  it ;  on  her  breast  glitter  the 
golden  brooches  which  fasten  the  peplus ;  a  necklace  (op/xos) 
hangs  down  to  her  breast, — the  gold  forming  in  it  a  contrast 
with  the  dark-red  amber.  On  her  head  is  the  coif,  with 
glittering  frontlet,  and  the  veil  falling  over  the  shoulders'. 

28.  The  Homeric  warrior  has  defensive  armour  resembling  Homeric 
that  of  the  heavy  infantry  soldier  (hoplite)   of  later  times.  armour- 
This  defensive  armour  is  an  essentially  Greek  trait ;  it  is  not 
oriental.      Thus  the  Ionian  Aristagoras   tells   the   Spartan 
Cleomenes  that  the  barbarians,  who  fight  with  bows  and 
short  spears,  go  into  battle  wearing   trousers  and  turbans8. 
The  Homeric  defensive  panoply  consists  of  helmet,  cuirass 
(Qwpr)£,   formed   of  breast- plate   and   back-plate),  greaves, 
belt8,  shield,  and   lastly  the   'mitra,' — a  girdle   of  metal, 

between  shades  of  colour.  Thus  he  says  of  a  robe  which  was  waveov 
that  nothing  was  futXavrepov  (II.  24.  93) :  though  Kvavfos  properly  =  dark 
blue.  He  applies  -)(\<ap6s  both  to  young  herbage  (pale  green),  and  to 
honey  (as  'pale,' or  perh.  merely  'fresh-looking').  A  striking  parallel 
to  his  x^wpos  is  the  Gaelic  urail,  as  meaning  (i)  green  of  any  shade,  (i) 
'flourishing,' — fresh,  comely, — said  of  a  face.  Thus  the  character  of 
the  Homeric  colour-sense  is  in  accord  with  the  character  of  Homeric 
art.  The  notion  that  '  Homer  was  colour-blind '  has  long  been 
exploded. 

1  Helbig,  p.  194. 

^o — dvaj-vplSfS — Kvpficurlai  (Her.  5.  49). 
The  word   £fr/xa,    as   used   in  the   Iliad,   probably  de- 
notes a  projecting  rim  at  the  bottom  of  the  0wpi??>  forming  a  'waist* 
which  served  to  hold  the  ftMrrfip  in  its  place.     In  the  Odyssey  the  fii/io 
has  a  somewhat  different  sense,  denoting  a  kind  of  broad  girdle  some- 


66  HOMER,  [CH.   II. 

(or  plated  with  metal,)  protecting  the  body  below  the  belt'. 
The  mitra  was  not  included  in  the  panoply  of  later  days. 
The  Homeric  shield  is  round  ;  but  there  are  hints  that 
an  oblong  shield  was  familiar  at  least  through  poetical 
tradition ;  thus  the  comparison  of  the  shield  of  Ajax  to 
a  tower  (//.  7.  219,  etc.)  implies  that  form8.  The  Homeric 
warrior  must  be  imagined  as  a  somewhat  clumsier  figure 
than  the  classical  hoplite;— his  armour  heavier,  more 
angular,  and  fitting  less  neatly.  The  war-chariot — important 
in  Homeric  fights-— had  gone  out  of  Greek  use  before 
700  B.C.8 

Homeric  29.  The  fine  art  of  the  Homeric  age  appears  mainly  as 
art>  decorative  art,  applied  to  objects  in  daily  use,  such  as  cups 
and  other  vessels,  furniture,  armour,  or  dress.  A  difficult, 
but  interesting,  question  is  to  estimate  the  actual  state 
of  art  with  which  the  Homeric  poems  were  contemporary. 
The  following  is  an  outline  of  the  general  view  which  many 
archaeologists  now  accept,  (i)  The  oldest  objects  of  art 
found  in  the  graves  at  Mycenae  are  older  than  the  Dorian 
conquest  of  the  Peloponnesus,  i.e.,  older  than  about 
rioo  B.C.  Three  main  elements  are  present  there;  skilled 
goldsmith's  work,  probably  Phrygian ;  work  of  an  early 
indigenous  Greek  art,  best  represented  by  decorated 
sword-blades;  and,  in  a  much  smaller  degree,  Phoenician 
work.  (2)  This  earliest  period  is  followed  by  an  interval 
of  some  three  centuries  (noo — 800  B.C.)  which  in  Greek 
art,  as  in  Greek  history,  is  almost  a  blank.  Then,  about 
800 — 750  B.C.,  a  revival  of  art  begins  in  the  East,  and 
is  carried  by  Phoenicians  into  Greece.  This  revived  art 

times  worn  instead  of  the  duprjl-  when  a  lighter  equipment  was  re- 
quired. 

1  In  //.  4.  187  the  nirpij  is  made  by  xa^*^ej. 

3  Cp.  Mr  W.  Leaf,  in  Journ.  Hellen.  Stud.  IV.  283,  who  has 
elucidated  several  points  of  Homeric  armour.  Among  others.,  the 
o-rpeTTTos  XI.T&V  of  //.  5.  113  has  been  explained  by  him  as  a  pleated 
doublet  worn  under  the  cuirass,  to  protect  the  skin  from  the  metal. 

3  la  the  war-poetry  of  Archilochus,  Alcaeus  and  Tyrtaeus,  there  is 
no  reference  to  the  use  of  the  d'/j/tia. 


CH.  II.]  THE    HOMERIC   WORLD.  67 

is  represented  especially  by  metal  work,  such  as  the 
Phoenician  bronze  bowls  in  the  British  Museum,  and  by 
pottery,  such  as  the  vases  from  Cameirus  in  Rhodes.  (3) 
The  Homeric  notices  of  art  belong  mainly  to  the  interval 
between  1100  and  800  B.C.;  that  is,  to  a  period  of  compara- 
tive decadence,  intervening  between  two  periods  of  vigour. 
The  Homeric  art  is  nearest  to  the  Mycenean1,  but  later  and 
ruder;  while  the  influence  of  the  eighth-century  revival,  if  it 
has  been  felt  at  all,  is  as  yet  only  incipient. 

30.     The  most  elaborate  work  of  art  in  Homer  is  the  Shield  of 
Shield  of  Achilles  (//.  18.  478  ff).     The  central  part  of  the  Ach 
Shield  (the  o'/x<£a\o's,  or  boss)  was  adorned  with  representa- 
tions of  earth,   heaven,  sea,    sun,   moon,  and  stars.     The 
outer  rim  of  the  shield  represented  the  earth-girdling  river 
Oceanus.     Between  the  boss  and  the  rim,  successive  con- 
centric bands  displayed  various  scenes   of  human  life;    a 
besieged  city  ;   a  city  at  peace ;   ploughing ;  reaping ;  vin- 
tage ;  oxen  attacked  by  lions ;  sheep  at  pasture  in  a  glen ; 
youths  and  maidens  dancing.     An  ingenious  reconstruction 
of  the  Shield,  from  Phoenician,  Assyrian,  Egyptian,  and  early 
Greek  sources,  has  been  given  by  Mr  A.  S.  Murray8.     He 
observes  that  the  Shield,  though  a  general  picture  of  human 
life,  gives  no  place  to  ships — an  omission  natural  for  As- 
syrians, but  strange  for  Greeks — nor  does  it  include  any  rite 
•of  Greek  religious  worship3.     Helbig  thinks  that  the  par-  How  fat 
ticular  scenes  depicted  on  the  Shield  had  been  suggested  to  ima§l- 
the  poet  by  real  works  of  art,  but  that  the  Shield  as  a  whole 
is  the  work  of  his  fancy.    It  proves  the  artistic  feeling  of  the 
poet,  but  belongs  to  an  age  which  was  not  yet  ripe  for 

1  Thus  Nestor's  cup  (//.   n.  632),  with  its  two  irv0fj.4i>et,  is  illus- 
trated by  some  of  the  Mycenean  cups,    where    the   Trv6/j.fres  appear 
as  golden  supports  connecting  the  handles  of  each  cup  with  its  stem. 

2  History  of  Greek  Sculpture,  ch.in.  p.  44. 

3  The  Chest  of  Cypselus,  described  by  Pausanias,  was  of  the  yth 
century  B.C.  ;  and  on  the  Chest — in  contrast  with  the  Shield — the  actors 
are  not  nameless,  but  are  well-known  persons  of  Greek  mythology, 
with  their  names   written   beside   them.     See  Murray,   op.   fit.,   pp. 
47,  61. 


$8  HOMER.  [CH.  II. 

plastic  expression  of  so  complex  a  kind l.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  the  Shield  as  a  whole  is  a  work  of  the  imagina- 
tion; the  only  question  is  how  far  actual  works  of  art 
had  inspired  its  details.  One  thing  is  certain.  The  poet 
knew  that  different  metals  could  be  inlaid,  as  he  represents 
them  on  his  Shield,  so  as  to  give  variety  of  colour  :  his  field 
is  of  gold,  his  vine-poles  of  silver,  his  fence  of  tin,  etc. 
Some  of  the  bronze  sword-blades  found  at  Mycenae — one 
of  which  was  adorned  with  a  lion-hunt — were  overlaid  with 
a  dark  metallic  enamel,  and  in  this  figures  cut  in  gold 
leaf  were  inserted, — the  gold  being  artificially  toned  to 
different  shades*. 

Other  The  golden  brooch  (Trepovr))  of  Odysseus  (Od.  19.  226) 

works,  represented  a  hound  holding  a  fawn  in  his  fore-paws,  and 
strangling  it,  while  it  writhed.  This  may  have  been  sug- 
gested by  a  real  work  of  art.  The  animals  and  fighting 
scenes  wrought  on  the  golden  belt  of  Heracles  (Od.  n. 
610)  recall  some  Rhodian  vase-paintings3.  But  there  is 
no  other  Homeric  hint  of  that  Greek  art,  dating  from  the 
8th  century  B.C.,  which  Phoenician  work  had  stimulated; 
and  the  passage  in  which  the  belt  occurs  is,  by  general 
consent,  one  of  the  later  parts  of  the  Odyssey. 

The  remark  made  above,  as  to  the  right  way  of  con- 
ceiving Homeric  figures  and  dress,  may  probably  be  ex- 
tended to  the  general  effect  of  the  Homeric  house  and  of 

1  Generally,  the  Greek  artistic  sense  in  Homer  is  shown  by  (i) 
distaste  for  the  formless  and  planless, — the  monsters,  such  as  Scylla, 
being  non-Hellenic  conceptions :  (2)  feeling  for  physical  beauty,  even  in 
the  old — as  Achilles  admires  the  comeliness  of  Priam  (//.  24.  631) — just 
as,  later,  old  men  chosen  for  their  beauty  shared  in  the  Panathenaic 
procession  (0a\Xo0dpoi,  Michaelis,  Parthenon,  pp.  330  f.) :  (3)  especially, 
the  admiration  of  the  human  form  as  seen  (e.g.)  in  the  corpse  of 
Hector  (//.  22.  369,  cp.  Herod.  9.  25).  Agamemnon  is  likened  to 
Zeus  for  head  and  eyes,  to  Ares  for  girth,  and  to  Poseidon  for  breast 
(//.  2.  477).  Yet  Pheidias  was  the  first  who  wrought  out  the  Zeus  of 
Homer. 

-  Prof.  P.  Gardner  in  Macmillan's  Magazine,  vol.  Liv.  p.  377 ; 
who  refers  to  U.  Koehler  in  Mittheilungen  Deutsch.  Inst.  Athen. 

vn.  244-  3  n.  p.  378. 


CH.   II.]  THE   HOMERIC   WORLD.  69 

Homeric  art.  The  modern  spectator,  if  he  could  be  placed  Oriental 
in  the  dwelling  of  an  Homeric  king,  might  fancy  himself  at  j^mlenc 
Nineveh  in  the  palace  of  Sanherib,  or  at  Tyre  in  the  palace  artgene- 
of  Hiram,  rather  than  in  a  Greek  home1. 

31.     Homer  makes  no  reference  to  coined  money.     A  Stan- 
'  talent's  weight'  of  uncoined  gold  is  sometimes  mentioned2.  Va[u|.° 
The  ox  is  the  ordinary  measure  of  values.     Thus  a  female 
slave,  skilled  in  embroidery,  is  worth  four  oxen ;  Laertes  had 
given  twenty  for  Eurycleia ;  a  fine  tripod  is  worth  twelve ; 
a   suit   of  '  golden '  armour  is  worth  a  hundred.     Much- 
wooed    maidens    'multiply    oxen'    for    their    fathers — by 
gifts  from  the  successful  suitors3. 

Some  kind  of  alphabetic  writing  is  probably  indicated  by  Writing. 
the  'baneful  tokens '  in  //.  6.  168 ;  but  elsewhere  in  Homer 
the  later  word  for  '  writing '  (ypa<£w)  means  only  to  '  scratch ' 
or  'graze.'     The  subject  of  writing  will  be  noticed  again  in 
Chapter  iv. 

The    Odyssey  has   a   word  for  a   man   who   is   skilled  Crafts- 
in    a    profession    or    trade — '  craftsman    of    the    people '  men* 
(o^/Aiocpyos).     This  term  is  applied  to  (i)  soothsayers,  (2) 
surgeons,  (3)  minstrels,  (4)  heralds,  (5)  artificers.    Commerce  Mer- 
is    not   yet   in   high   esteem   with   Greeks.      Odysseus    is cnants- 
nettled  when  a  Phaeacian  chief  remarks  that  he  is  not  like 
;  one  skilled  in  games,'  but  rather  like  '  a  master  of  sailors 
that  are  merchants'  (Trpr/K-nypes,  Od.  8.  161). 

32.     Apart  from  the  action  of  each  epic,  glimpses  into 

1  Helbig,  p.  318. 

*  It  denotes  no  great  value — as  may  be  inferred  from  //.  23.  751, 
where  'half  a  talent  of  gold'  is  only  the  third  prize  for  running, — the 
second  being  an  ox,  and  the  first  a  silver  bowl. 

8  See  Butcher  and  Lang's  Odyssey,  Note  5,  p.  410.  'The  ZSva  in 
Homer  are  invariably  gifts  made  by  the  wooers  to  the  father  or  kinsmen 
of  the  bride,  that  is,  the  bride-price,  the  kalym  of  the  dwellers  on  the 
Volga.  The  Greeks  of  the  Homeric  age  virtually  bought  their  wives  : 
cp.  Aristotle,  Pol.  ii.  8  §  19,  speaking  of  the  barbaric  customs  of  ancient 
Greece,  T&J  y\n>cuKas  twvovvro  trap  aXXjiXtov.'  The  Homeric  pelXia  are 
gifts  to  the  bride  from  her  father :  the  wooer's  gifts  to  her  are  called 
simply  Supa.  In  Pindar  ISva  already=^pi'T7,  the  dowry. 


70  HOMER.  [CH.  II. 

the  general  life  of  the  age  are  given  by  many  of  the 
similes.  These  tell  of  the  shipwright  —  for  whom  mules 
^ra&  t^^er  from  the  hills  —  the  chariot-builder,  the  stone- 
mason, and  the  house-builder.  A  woman  'of  Caria  or 
Maeonia  '  stains  ivory  with  crimson,  to  make  a  cheek  -piece 
for  the  bridle  of  a  chief's  horse.  The  art  of  'overlaying 
gold  on  silver'  is  noticed.  A  doubtful  fight  suggests  the 
equipoise  of  scales  in  the  hands  of  'a  careful  working- 
dame,'  weighing  wool,  that  by  spinning  'she  may  earn  a 
scant  wage  for  her  children.'  We  see  neighbours  disputing 
about  a  boundary,  'with  measuring-rods  in  their  hands.' 
Or  a  skilled  rider1  is  urging  four  horses  together  along  a 
highway  towards  a  great  town,  and  leaping  from  one  horse 
to  another,  while  the  folk  marvel.  A  late  hour  in  the 
afternoon  is  the  hour  '  when  a  man  rises  up  from  the 
marketplace  and  goes  to  supper,  —  one  who  judges  the 
many  quarrels  of  the  young  men  that  seek  to  him  for  law2.' 
On  the  Shield  of  Achilles  two  scenes  of  townlife  are  given. 
One  is  a  joyous  marriage  procession,  while  torches  blaze,  and 
the  bridal  chant  rings  clear.  Another  is  a  dispute  for  the 
blood-price  of  a  slain  man,  in  the  marketplace  ;  the  slayer 
vows  that  he  has  paid  ;  the  kinsman  of  the  slain  denies  it  ; 
and  the  elders,  seated  on  polished  stones  in  a  semicircle, 
try  the  cause.  In  the  rural  scenes  of  the  Shield  —  Ploughing, 
Reaping,  Vintage,  Pasturage  —  we  note  the  kindly  and 
joyous  aspect  of  the  country  life.  And  then  there  comes 
the  picture  of  the  dance  :  —  '  youths  dancing,  and  maidens 
of  costly  wooing,  their  hands  upon  one  another's  wrists. 


1  //.  15.  679;  the  only  mention  of  riding  (KfXrjrLfriv)  in  //.:  for  in 
xo.  513  we  need  not  assume  that  Odysseus  and  Diomede  ride,  rather  than 
drive,  the  horses  of  Rhesus.     In  Od.  5.  371  the  shipwrecked  Odysseus 
bestrides  a  spar,   ict\i)6'   o5j  t-irirov   tXavj'uv.     In   two   other  instances 
a   Homeric  simile  turns  on  a  practice  not  ascribed  to  the  Homeric 
heroes:   (i)  the  use  of  the  trumpet,  <ra.\iriyi-,  11.    18.  219:  (2)  boiling 
meat  in  a  caldron,  A^TJS,  //.  «i.  362. 

2  Od.  12.  440  —  notable  as  an  indication  of  time  exactly  like  the 
<iyopa  TT\ri0ov(ra.  (early  forenoon)  or  dyopas  SiaXvcris  (early  afternoon)  of 
the  classical  age. 


CH.  II.]  THE    HOMERIC    WORLD.  Jl 

Fine  linen  the  maidens  had  on,  and  the  youths  well-Woven 
tunics  faintly  glistening  with  oil.  Fair  wreaths  had  the 
maidens,  and  the  youths  daggers  of  gold  hanging  from 
silver  baldrics.'  Now  they  move  round  in  a  swift  circle — 
now  they  run  in  lines  to  meet  each  other.  '  And  a  great 
company  stood  round  the  lovely  dance  in  joy.' 

33.  The  Homeric  Greeks  burn  their  dead.     When  the  Funeral 
body  has  been  laid  on  the  pyre,  sacrifice  is  offered,  on  a  scale  rites- 
proportionate  to  the  rank  of  the  dead.     If  he  was  a  great 
chief,  many  oxen  and  sheep  are  slain,  as  well  as  some  of  his 
favourite  horses  and  dogs,  and  their  carcases  are  thrown  on 

the  pyre.  The  corpse  is  wrapped  in  the  fat  of  the  victims ; 
unguents  and  honey  are  also  placed  near  it.  When  the 
body  has  been  consumed,  the  embers  are  quenched  with 
wine.  The  friends  then  collect  the  bones,  washing  them 
with  wine  and  oil,  or  wrapping  them  in  fat;  cover  them 
with  fine  cloths ;  and  place  them  in  an  urn  (\apva£).  The 
urn  is  then  deposited  in  a  grave  (Kan-eros);  over  this  is 
raised  a  round  barrow  of  earth  and  stones  (n^/Jos  or 
(rfjfjM.)1,  and  on  the  top  of  the  barrow  is  set  an  upright  slab 
of  stone  (O-TT/XIJ).  Until  the  body  has  received  funeral  rites, 
the  spirit  of  the  dead  is  supposed  to  be  excluded  from  con- 
verse with  the  other  shades  in  the  nether  world  (//.  23.  71). 
In  practising  cremation,  the  Homeric  Greeks  were  in  accord 
with  the  most  ancient  practice  of  the  Indo-European 
peoples,  except  the  Persians.  With  the  Semitic  races,  on 
the  other  hand,  interment  was  the  prevailing  custom. 
Among  the  Greeks  and  Romans  of  the  historical  age  crema- 
tion and  interment  were  in  contemporary  use. 

34.  The  Homeric  place  of  the  departed  is  'the  house  The 
of  Hades.'     '  Hades,'  '  the  Unseen,'  is  in  Homer  always  a 
proper  name,  denoting  the  god  Pluto.     Between  earth  and 

1  Three  fire-funerals  are  described  with  some  detail ; — //.  33.  no  ff. 
(Patroclus) :  //.  14  786  ff.  (Hector) :  Od.  24.  63  ff.  (Achilles).  The 
sacrifice  of  the  Trojan  prisoners  at  the  funeral  of  Patroclus  is  ex- 
ceptional— a  trait  of  unique  ferocity,  intended  to  mark  the  frenzy  of 
grief  in  Achilles. 


72  HOMER.  [CH.   II. 

the  realm  of  Hade?  is  an  intermediate  region  of  gloom, 
Erebus  :  while  Tartarus,  the  prison ,  of  the  Titans  and  other 
offenders  against  Zeus,  is  as  far  below  Hades  as  he  is  below 
the  earth.  In  the  realm  of  Hades  the  spirit  (tyvxt)  °f 
the  dead  has  the  form,  the  rank,  and  the  occupations  which 
were  those  of  the  living  man.  But  the  spirit  is  a  mere 
semblance  (eiSwXov)  or  wraith  ;  '  the  living  heart  is  not  in  it ' 
(//.  23.  103) ;  it  is  '  strengthless.'  The  Homeric  feeling  on 
this  point  is  illustrated  by  the  use  of  the  pronoun  avros.  As 
distinguished  from  the  spirit  in  the  nether  world,  the  real 
self  (aim>'s)  is  either  the  corpse  left  on  earth  (//.  i.  4), 
or  the  man  as  he  formerly  lived  (Od.  n.  574)'.  So  the 
Egyptian  Book  of  the  Dead2  has  a  picture  of  the  deceased 
man  (the  cu/ros)  making  prayers  to  the  Sun-god,  while  his 
soul  attends  behind  him.  When  Odysseus  wishes  to  call 
up  the  spirits  of  the  dead,  he  digs  a  pit,  a  cubit  square,  into 
which  flows  the  blood  of  the  sheep  which  he  sacrifices ;  and 
the  spirits,  invoked  by  his  prayers,  then  come  up  from 
Erebus  to  the  drink-offering  of  blood  (Od.  n.  36).  By 
drinking  of  the  blood,  the  ghosts  recover  some  of  the 
faculties  of  the  living,  so  that  they  can  recognise  Odysseus, 
and  speak  to  him3. 

Homer  knows  not  the  '  Islands  of  the  Blest :'  these  are 
first  named  by  Pindar.  But  in  the  far  region  of  the  sunset 
is  'the  Elysian  plain.'  'No  snow  is  there,  nor  yet  great 
storm,  nor  any  rain;  but  always  the  river  Ocean  sendeth 

1  Similarly  in  Od.  n.  602  euro's  is  the  real  Heracles,  as  he  exists, 
after  apotheosis,  among  the  gods,  in  distinction  from  his  eidolon  in 
the  house  of  Hades. 

3  Bunsen's  Egypt  (vol.  I.  p.  26,  transl.),  quoted  by  Gladstone  in 
Homeric  Synchronism,  p.  261.  The  'Book  of  the  Dead,'  or  'Funeral 
Ritual,'  is  'a  collection  of  prayers  of  a  magical  character,  referring  to  the 
future  condition  of  the  disembodied  soul'  (R.  S.  Poole,  in  Encycl.  Brit. 
VII.  p.  721).  It  has  been  published  by  Lepsius  and  by  De  Rouge,  and 
translated  by  ttirch. 

3  See  Od.  u.  153,  390.  The  drinking  of  the  blood  is  not  mentioned 
in  every  instance,  but  the  poet  evidently  conceived  it  as  the  general 
condition  :  see  Merrv  on  Od.  \  i.  q6. 


CH.  II.]  THE    HOMERIC   WORLD.  73 

forth  the  breeze  of  the  shrill  west  to  blow  cool  on  men.' 
There  is  Rhadamanthus,  son  of  Zeus ;  and  thither  Menelaus 
shall  pass  without  dying,  because  Helen,  the  daughter  of 
Zeus,  is  his  wife.  (Od.  4.  563  ff.) 

Such  are  the  chief  traits  of  the  Homeric  age.  As  a 
general  picture  of  that  age,  the  Homeric  poetry  has  the 
value  of  history.  It  is  manifestly  inspired  by  real  life. 
This  is  equally  true  whether  the  life  is  conceived  as  strictly 
contemporary  with  the  poet,  or  as  known  to  him  only 
through  a  vivid  tradition. 


CHAPTER    III. 
HOMER  IN  ANTIQUITY. 

i.    WE  have  now  considered  the    general  characteris- 

Influence  tics  of  the  Homeric  poems  and  of  the  Homeric  age.     The 

Homeric  su^Ject  which  next  invites  attention  is  the  influence  of  Homer 

poems,     in  Greek  antiquity.     That  influence  pervades  Greek  litera- 

ture.    But   it  is  much  more  than  literary.     It  enters  into 

every  part  of  Greek  life.     Eulogists  of  Homer,  Plato  tells 

us,  used  to  say  that  he  had  been  '  the  educator  of  Hellas  V 

In  a  certain  sense,  such  a  claim  can  be  made  for  every 

great  national  poet.     The  peculiarity  of  Homer's  case  is 

that,  for  him,  the  claim  can  be  made  with  so  much  literal 

truth.     There  is  no  other  instance  in  which  the  educative 

power  of  national  poetry  over  a  national  mind  has  been 

so  direct  or  so  comprehensive. 

Homer  was  long  known  to  the  Greek  world  solely, 
or  chiefly,  through  public  recitation.  The  spirit  in  which 
the  public  reciter  conceived  his  office  will  be  better  under- 
stood if  we  begin  by  noting  the  Homeric  references  to 
minstrelsy. 


1  Rep,   606    E   Srav  'Offfipov   tiraivtrats  frrvxys,    \tyovGiv   wj 
'EXXoSct  treTralSevKev  OUTOJ  6  Trotr/rifc. 


CH.  III.]  HOMER    IN    ANTIQUITY.  75 

2.  The  Iliad  nowhere  mentions  a  minstrel  (aoiSoV)  reci-  Min- 
ting lays.  It  says,  indeed,  that  the  Thracian  poet  Thamyris 
boasted  that  'he  would  conquer,  though  the  Muses  them-  niad 
selves  should  sing  against  him'  (2.  597).  He  was  'coming 
from  Eurytus  of  Oechalia'  (in  Thessaly)  when  the  Muses 
met  him  and  struck  him  blind.  Here  we  seem  to  have  a 
glimpse  of  a  poet  who  (i)  recites  his  own  poetry,  (2)  is 
familiar  with  the  idea  of  competition  in  singing,  and  (3)  is 
the  guest  of  chieftains.  Achilles  has  no  minstrel  to  entertain 
him  in  his  tent,  but  plays  the  lyre  himself,  and  sings  to  it 
'the  glories  of  heroes'  (/cAto.  avSpwv,  9.  189).  Patroclus  was 
waiting  in  silence,  till  Achilles  'should  cease  from  singing.' 

The  Odyssey  assigns  a  recognised  position  to  the  pro-  Odyssey 
fessional  minstrel  (aoiSo's).  In  the  palace  of  Alcinous,  king 
of  Phaeacia,  the  blind  minstrel,  Demodocus,  is  led  in  by  the 
king's  'herald'  or  chamberlain  (icljpvg),  and  is  set  on  'a  high 
chair  inlaid  with  silver,'  in  the  midst  of  the  guests  (8.  65). 
Demodocus  sings  the  'glories  of  heroes'  (KAe'o.  av8p<3v,  v.  73) 
to  the  lyre — choosing  the  episode  of  a  quarrel  between 
Odysseus  and  Achilles.  Then  the  company  go  out  to  see 
athletic  games.  The  next  time  that  Demodocus  sings  at 
the  feast,  his  theme  is  again  from  the  'Trojan  lay':  but 
Odysseus  names  the  part  which  is  to  be  sung— viz.,  the 
story  of  the  wooden  horse ;  and  the  minstrel  '  took  up  the 
tale  from  that  point1  (evOev  eAwv,  8.  500). 

In  Ithaca,  during  the  absence  of  Odysseus,  the  min- 
strel Phemius  was  constrained  by  the  suitors  to  sing  to 
them  at  their  feasts.  He  sang  'the  pitiful  return  of  the 
Achaeans'  from  Troy.  This  pained  Penelope,  and  she 
begged  him  to  change  his  theme;  but  Telemachus  re- 

1  In  //.  14.  720  Tropd  3'  el<rav  docSouj,  |  Opyvuv  tl-dpxovs,  the  'singers' 
placed  by  Hector's  corpse  merely  'lead  the  dirge,'  while  the  women 
join  in  with  their  wail.  The  only  other  place  where  the  Iliad  has 
the  word  is  a  doubtful  passage,  18.  604  pera.  5^  <r#tr  ^tAirero  Oeios 
etoiio'j,  |  tpop/dfav, — 'was  making  music  with  his  lyre'  (for  the  dancers — 
in  one  of  the  scenes  on  the  Shield).  These  words  occur  in  no  ins. 
They  were  inserted  by  Wolf  from  Athenaeus  (v.  p.  i8oD),  who  blames 
Aristarchus  for  having  struck  them  out  (id.  p.  181  D). 


76  HOMER.  [CH.    III. 

marked  that  the  minstrel  could  not  be  blamed  for  choosing 
it — since  men  most  applaud  the  song  which  is  newest  (i. 
352).  So  the  Odyssey  knows  at  least  two  great  themes  for 
minstrels, — (i)  'The  Doom  of  Ilios'  ('IXi'ov  oTrov,  8.  578), 
and  (2)  the  'Return  of  the  Achaeans'  ('AxauSv  voa-rov,  i. 
326):  and  the  latter  is  the  '  newest.' 

The  similes  from  the  art  of  the  minstrel  are  striking, 
(i)  When  the  swineherd  Eumaeus  wishes  to  make  Penelope 
understand  the  charm  of  the  newly-arrived  stranger  (Odys- 
seus), he  says  : — '  Even  as  when  a  man  gazes  on  a  minstrel, 
whom  the  gods  have  taught  to  sing  words  of  yearning  joy 
to  mortals,  and  they  have  a  ceaseless  desire  to  hear  him, 
so  long  as  he  will  sing ; — even  so  he  charmed  me,  sitting 
by  me  in  the  halls'  (Od.  17.  518  ff.).  (2)  Ease  in  stringing 
a  bow  is  thus  described : — '  Even  as  when  a  man  that 
is  skilled  in  the  lyre  and  in  minstrelsy  easily  stretches  a 
cord  about  a  new  peg,  after  tying  at  either  end  the  twisted 
sheep-gut,  even  so  Odysseus  straightway  bent  the  great  bow' 
(Od.  21.  406  if.). 

Such,  then,  are  the  essential  traits  of  the  minstrel, 
or  '  aoidos,'  as  we  find  him  in  the  Odyssey: — (i)  He  is  a 
singer  directly  moved  by  'the  god'  (op/u^eis  Oeov,  Od.  8. 
499),  or  by  'the  Muse:'  (2)  he  sings  for  a  select  company 
of  guests  at  the  banquet  in  a  great  man's  house:  (3)  he 
accompanies  his  song  on  the  lyre:  (4)  his  song  is  a  lay 
of  moderate  length,  dealing  with  some  episode  complete 
in  itself,  taken  from  a  larger  story  (such  as  the  tale  of 
Troy).  When  his  host  asks  him  for  a  particular  lay,  the 
minstrel  begins  '  from  that  point '  in  the  larger  story. 
Post-Ho-  3.  After  the  picture  of  the  'aoidos'  in  the  Odyssey, 
citation6"  ^ere  is  a  gap  in  our  knowledge.  Then,  early  in  the  his- 
Khap-  torical  age,  we  meet  with  the  public  reciter,  or  'rhapsode' 
(pai/fwSos),  who  claims,  in  a  certain  way,  to  represent  the 
Homeric  aoidos.  The  earlier  rhapsodes  were  sometimes, 
doubtless,  epic  composers  also ;  but  it  is  not  likely  that  this 
was  often  the  case  after  the  sixth  century  B.C.  'Rhapsode' 
is  strictly 'a  singer  of  stitched  things,' — as  Pindar  (Nem.  2.  2) 


CH.  III.]  HOMER    IN    ANTIQUITY.  77 


paraphrases  it,  paTmav  CTTCWV  aoiSo's.  'To  stitch  verses  to- 
gether' was  a  metaphor  for  'composing  verses1.'  'Rhap- 
sode,' then,  need  not  mean  anything  more  than  '  a  reciter 
of  poetical  compositions  '  (whether  his  own,  or  another's). 
The  word  was,  however,  peculiarly  suitable  to  the  con- 
tinuous flow  of  epic  verse,  as  contrasted  with  a  lyric  strophe. 
It  has  nothing  to  do  with  any  notion  of  the  epic  being 
pieced  together  from  short  lays. 

4.  The  public  recitation  of  the  Homeric  poems  by 
rhapsodes  can  be  traced  back  to  about  600  B.C.,  and  was 
doubtless  in  use  from  a  considerably  earlier  time.  It  is  found 
at  Sicyon  in  Peloponnesus,  —  at  Syracuse,  —  at  Delos,  —  at 
Chios,  —  at  Cyprus,  —  and  at  Athens.  This  shows  how  widely 
the  Homeric  poems  were  diffused,  from  an  early  date, 
throughout  the  Greek  world,  among  Dorians  and  lonians 
alike.  At  Athens  there  was  a  special  ordinance  prescribing 
that  Homer  should  be  recited  (pai/^Seto-flai)  at  the  festival  of 
the  Great  Panathenaea,  once  in  every  four  years*.  This  law 
was  probably  as  old  as  600  —  500  B.C.  It  was  further  provided 
that  the  competing  rhapsodes  at  the  Panathenaea  should 
recite  consecutive  parts  of  Homer,  instead  of  choosing  their 
passages  at  random8. 

The  passage  in  which  Herodotus  (5.  67)  notices 
the  recitations  at  Sicyon  is  of  interest  as  illustrating  the 
power  of  Homer  over  the  popular  Greek  mind.  Cleis- 

1  Hes.  fr.  34  (Homer  and  Hesiod)  tv  veapois  vnvois  pdif/avres  aoid^v 
(cp.  'pangere  versus').  vfu>os  itself  is  perh.  vip-vos  (v<f>aivu),  'web': 
though  in  any  case  it  seems  unlikely  that  in  Od.  8.  429  (doiS^j 
vfju'ov  OKOVWV)  it  was  used  with  a  consciousness  of  that  sense. 

-  na.6'  iKOffT-riv  TrevraeTiiplda,  Lycurgus  Leocr.  §  102. 

3  Ace.  to  Diogenes  Laertius  i.  2.  57,  Solon  t£  uiro/SoXiJj  ytypcufx 
pcuf/<?8fiff6ai,  olov  &wov  6  irpwros  (\ri£fi>,  ticcW(i>  dpxcffffai  -rbv  fx^^fvov- 
Ace.  to  the  Platonic  Hipparchus  228  B  Hipparchus  compelled  the 
reciters  of  the  Homeric  poems  ^|  tiroXij^ews  f<f>e^  cumk  SiiVvcu  : 
i.e.  in  such  a  way  that  they  should  'take  one  another  up'  consecutively. 
The  general  sense  of  t£  vrofioXijt  is  clearly  the  same  :  the  only  question 
is  whether  it  means  (i)  'from  an  authorised  text,"  or  (2)  'with 
prompting'  —  each  reciter  having  his  proper  cue  given  to  him. 


78  HOMER.  [CH.  III. 

thenes,  tyrant  of  Sicyon  (600 — 570  B.C.),  was  bitterly 
hostile  to  Argos.  '  He  put  down  the  competitions  of 
rhapsodes,'  Herodotus  says,  'on  account  of  the  Homeric 
poems,  because  Argives  and  Argos  are  celebrated  almost 
everywhere  in  them.'  It  has  been  thought  that  the 
'  Homeric  poems '  meant  here  were  some  poems  specially 
concerned  with  Argos,  such  as  the  lost  epic  called  the 
Thebais.  But  there  is  no  reason  why  the  reference  should 
not  be  to  our  Iliad,  since  in  it  'Argives'  is  one  of  the  col- 
lective names  for  the  Greeks,  and  Agamemnon  is  lord  of 
'Argos  and  the  isles.' 

Homer-  5.  In  the  island  of  Chios,  there  was  a  family  or  clan 
called  Homeridae,  and  it  has  generally  been  supposed  that 
they  were  rhapsodists;  but  this  is  doubtful.  The  Chian 
Homeridae  are  first  mentioned  by  Strabo  (arc.  18  A.D.), 
who  says  that  they  claimed  descent  from  Homer,  but  does 
not  connect  them  with  the  recitation  or  study  of  Homeric 
poetry.  The  term  '  Homeridae,'  as  used  by  Pindar  and 
Plato,  seems  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  a  gens  in  Chios,  but 
to  mean  simply  '  votaries'  or  'students'  of  Homeric  poetry, 
being  equivalent  to  the  more  prosaic  term  'Homerists' 
('O/xr/petot  or  'OfjuqpiKofy !. 

The  6.     The  hint  in  Herodotus  as  to  Homer's  power  agrees 

rhapsode  ^^  faQ  picture  of  the  Homeric  rhapsode  in  the  Platonic 
fourth      dialogue,  the  Ion.    Here  we  see  what  the  rhapsode's  calling 
century    was  abOut  400 — 350  B.C.    Ion,  a  native  of  Ephesus,  is  a  pro- 
fessional rhapsode,  who  goes  from  city  to  city,  reciting  and  ex- 

1  All  that  we  know  about  'Owpidai  comes  to  this  : — (i)  The  word 
occurs  first  in  Pindar  Nem.  i.  i,'Ofii)pLSai  pawruf  twtuv  aoidol,  where  it 
has  no  special  reference  to  a  family  in  Chios.  And  the  scholiast  there 
expressly  recognises  a  general  use  of  '0/j.tipLSai  to  denote  rhapsodists  of 
Homer  who  had  no  claim  to  be  his  descendants ;  adding,  however, 
that'O^ui/p/Sat  had  originally  meant  such  descendants — a  statement  for 
which  he  perhaps  had  no  ground  except  the  form  of  the  word  itself. 
Plato  has  the  word  'O/AitpLSai  thrice  (Ion  530  D,  Rep.  599  E, 
Phaedr.  2528),  always  as  =  persons  who  concern  themselves  with  the 
Homeric  poems.  The  scholiast  on  Plat.  Theaet.  179  E  (TWV  'HpaK\ei- 
rduv,  rj  uffirep  ffv  X£y«s,  '0/J.ijpeluv),  has  '0/jLrjptSas  <f>i)ffi  rous'HpaxXec 


CH.  III.]  HOMER    IN    ANTIQUITY.  79 

pounding  Homer  to  large  audiences.  He  has  been  attending 
the  festival  of  Asclepius  at  EpJdaurus ;  now  he  has  come  to 
Athens  to  recite  at  the  Panathenaea.  On  such  occasions,  the 
rhapsode  appeared  on  a  platform  (/fc^-a),  in  a  richly  em- 
broidered dress,  with  a  golden  wreath  on  his  head.  He  re- 
cited Homer  in  a  dramatic  manner,  with  appropriate  gesture 
and  declamation.  Ion  says  that,  when  he  recites,  he  feels 
the  strongest  emotion :  at  the  pathetic  parts,  his  eyes  fill  with 
tears ;  at  the  terrors,  bis  hair  stands  on  end.  He  may  have 
an  audience  of  'more  than  twenty  thousand;'  and,  after 
all  reasonable  deduction,  we  must  conclude  that  these 
popular  audiences  were  often  very  large  indeed.  As  he 
recites  on  his  platform,  the  rhapsode  beholds  his  own 
moods  reflected  in  the  sea  of  upturned  faces ;  the  hearers  are 
moved  to  wonder,  to  anger,  or  to  tears.  As  Ion  frankly  puts 
it  to  Socrates,  a  rhapsode  whom  his  audience  did  not  take 
seriously — a  rhapsode  who  merely  made  them  laugh — would 
have  cause  to  look  serious  himself,  for  he  would  lose  his  pay. 
The  passage  is  a  remarkable  testimony  to  the  intensity 
with  which  the  Greeks  of  the  fourth  century  B.C.  could  still 
enter  into  the  spirit  of  Homer.  They  demanded  that  the 
rhapsode  should  do  something  more  than  amuse  them.  He 
must  move  them.  He  must  bring  the  Homeric  poetry  home 
to  their  hearts.  On  his  part,  the  rhapsode  Ion  regards 
himself  and  his  professional  brethren  as  more  than  reciters 
or  actors.  They  have  an  intellectual  kinship  with  Homer  : 
some  measure  of  his  spirit  has  descended  on  them.  In 
Ion's  own  phrase,  they  are  'possessed'  by  Homer.  The 
Platonic  Socrates,  with  delicate  irony,  embodies  this  claim 
in  a  simile.  The  Muse,  says  Socrates,  is  like  the  stone 

Tflow  Std  T&  rift  deiKifijfflas  djy/M, — showing  that  the  scholiast  under- 
stood ' Ofj.t)piScu  as='OMi?p«<w.  (2)  A  family  or  clan  in  Chios  called 
'Ofj.-rjpi5at  is  noticed  by  Strabo  xiv.  p.  645,  who  says  that  it  was 
so  called  died  rov  ixelvov  ytvovs,  and  that  hence  it  was  quoted  by 
the  Chians  in  proof  that  Homer  was  a  Chian.  Harpocration,  in 
his  lexicon,  also  mentions  the  Chian  Homeridae,  but  notices  that 
their  descent  from  Homer  was  not  undisputed. 


80  HOMER.  [CH.   111. 

which  Euripides  has  named  the  magnet,  but  which  is 
usually  called  the  stone  of  Heracleia.  The  poet  is  the 
first  link  in  a  magnetic  chain  ;  the  audience  is  the  last ; 
the  rhapsode  is  the  link  which  connects  them.  The  pro- 
fessional ancestors  of  Ion  are  such  as  Orpheus,  or  the 
Thamyris  of  the  Iliad,  or  the  Phemius  of  the  Odyssey, 
whom  Socrates  calls  'the  rhapsode  of  Ithaca.' 

7.    Ion  devotes  himself  exclusively  to  Homer.    He  does 
not  pretend  to  any  thorough  knowledge  of  Hesiod,  for  in- 
stance, or  of  Archilochus.     Some  rhapsodes,  he  says,  give 
y  themselves  to  Orpheus  or  Musaeus;   but  the  majority  are 

occupied  with  Homer  alone. 

Was  The   rhapsode    of  Plato's   time    clearly   did  not   sing 

<  ever16'  Homer  to  music;  the  word  aSetv  is,  indeed,  used  of 
.  sung?  Ion's  performances  (Plat.  Ion  532  c,  535  A),  but  that  word 
&  was  applicable  to  any  solemn  recitation  :  thus  Thucydides 

applies  it  to  the  reciting  of  an  oracular  verse  (2.  53). 
Whether  the  Iliad  or  Odyssey  was  ever  sung  to  music,  is 
very  doubtful.  Once,  certainly,  there  had  been  heroic  lays 
which  were  really  sung  to  the  lyre.  But  the  form  of  Homeric 
verse  is  ill-suited  for  that  purpose.  In  the  hymn  to  the 
Delian  Apollo  (verse  170)  the  reciter  is  supposed  to  carry 
*^a  lyre  :  but  this  may  have  been  conventional, — a  symbol 
of  legitimacy  in  the  descent  of  the  Homeric  rhapsode's 
art  from  that  of  the  'aoidos.'  Hesiod  describes  the  Muses 
giving  him  a  branch  of  laurel  as  the  token  of  his  vocation; 
and  in  the  Hesiodic  school  of  rhapsodists,  at  least,  the  wand 
or  pu/28os — not  the  lyre — was  usually  carried. 

The  Besides  reciting   Homer,  Ion   interprets  him.     At  the 

rhap-       Panathenaea  the  competing  rhapsodes  recited  continuously, 
commen-  each  beginning  where  the  last  left  off.     Ion's  comments, 
tator.       tjienj  must  have  been  given  separately  from  his  recitations, 
or  else  can  have  been  combined  with   these  only  on  oc- 
casions when  he  was  the  sole  performer.      It  is  evident 
from  the  Platonic  dialogue  that  Ion's  Homeric  commentary 
had  the  form  of  continuous  rhetorical  exposition :   he  took 
pride  in  his  fluency,  and  in  the  wealth,  as  he  says,  of  his 


CH.  III.]  HOMER    IN    ANTIQUITY.  8l 

'ideas  about  Homer.'  'I  have  embellished  Homer  so  well', 
he  declares,  'that  his  votaries  ought  to  give  me  a  golden 
crown.'  Doubtless,  like  other  men  of  that  age,  he  dealt 
mainly  with  the  allegories  which  a  perverse  ingenuity  dis- 
covered in  Homer. 

8.  The  study  of  the  poets  in  schools  is  described  in  Homer 
Plato's  Protagoras.     When  a  boy  gees  to  school,  he  is  l? 
first  taught   his  letters.     As   soon   as    he  can  read,  he  is 
introduced    to   the    poets.      The    boys    sit    on    benches, 

and  the  teacher  '  sets  before  them  '  '  the  works  of  good 
poets,'  which  they  are  required  to  learn  thoroughly1. 
Evidently,  then,  the  teaching  was  by  manuscript  copies 
which  the  boys  had  before  them,  and  was  not  merely 
oral.  The  purpose  was  not  only  to  form  the  boy's 
literary  taste,  or  to  give  him  the  traditional  lore :  it  was 
especially  a  moral  purpose,  having  regard  to  the  precepts 
(voutfenfo-eis)  in  the  poets,  and  to  the  praises  of  great  men 
of  old, — '  in  order  that  the  boy  may  emulate  their  examples, 
and  may  strive  to  become  such  as  they'  (Plat.  Prot.  326  A). 

9.  From  this  point  of  view  Homer  was  regarded  as  the 
best    and    greatest   of    educators.     In    Xenophon's   Sym- 
posium (3.  5)  one  of  the  guests  says  : — '  My  father,  anxious 
that  I  should  become  a  good  man,  made  me  learn  all  the 
poems  of  Homer;    and  now  I  could  say  the  whole  Iliad 
and  Odyssey  by   heart '.      '  Homer,    the   prince   of  poets, 
has  treated  almost  all  human  affairs.     If  any  one  of  you, 
then,  wishes  to  become  a  prudent  ruler  of  his  house,  or  an 
orator,  or  a  general,  or  to  resemble  Achilles,  Ajax,  Nestor, 
or  Odysseus ' — let  him  study  Homer  (ib.  4.  6).     Especially, 
as  Isocrates  says,  Homer  was  looked  upon  as  the  embodi- 
ment of  national  Hellenic  sentiment.     No  one  else  was  so 
well  fitted  to  keep  the  edge  of  Hellenic  feeling  keen  and 
bright  against  the  barbarian2. 

1  Plat.  Prot.  325  E  irapa.Ti0la.aLV  ai/rotj  tirl  r(av  fiadpuv  dvayiyvuffKeif 
TrotriTuv  dya6<ai>  iroiij/«tTa  Kal  iK^.av6aveii>  a.va.yK.a,£ovaiv.    iKfia,v9avei.v  may 
imply  committing  portions  to  memory,  a  sense  which  the  word  has  in 
Legg.  81 1  A. 

2  Pane^yricus  §  1 59. 

J.  6 


82  HOMER.  [CH.   III. 

Plutarch  relates  that  Alcibiades,  when  a  young  man, 
once  went  up  to  a  schoolmaster  and  asked  him  for  a 
copy  of  Homer.  The  schoolmaster  said  that  he  had 
nothing  of  Homer's,  whereupon  Alcibiades  struck  him1. 
This  story  suggests  the  remark  that,  though  Homer 
had  a  place  in  the  education  of  very  young  boys  no  less 
than  of  older  youths,  it  was  better  suited  for  the  latter; 
and  such,  perhaps,  was  the  view  of  the  Homer-less  school- 
master. There  is  an  amusing  fragment  of  Aristophanes 
(from  the  'Banqueters,'  AcuTaAeis)  in  which  an  old  man — a 
believer  in  the  old  orthodox  system  of  education — examines 
his  son  on  'hard  words  in  Homer'  (cO//,??peioi  yAwo-crai), 
asking  him  '  what  is  meant  by  dfjLfvrjva  Kaprjva ',  and  so 
forth.  The  young  man,  who  represents  new-fangled  ideas 
and  the  new-born  love  of  law-suits,  retorts  by  examining  his 
father  on  the  archaic  words  in  Solon's  laws2. 

10.  In  the  Frogs  of  Aristophanes  some  of  the  poets  are 
mentioned  in  connection  with  the  special  lessons  which  they 
severally  teach.  Orpheus  teaches  mystic  rites,  and  abstinence 
from  animal  food.  Musaeus  gives  oracles,  and  precepts 
for  banishing  pestilence.  Hesiod  is  the  poet  of  the  husband- 
man. Homer  is  preeminently  the  poet  of  the  soldier3.  The 
rhapsode  Ion,  when  cross-questioned  by  Socrates,  is  not 
absolutely  certain  that  the  study  of  Homer  has  made  him  a 
finished  charioteer,  or  physician,  or  fisherman,  or  prophet ; 
but  he  has  no  doubt  whatever  that  it  has  made  him  a 
competent  general.  The  Athenians,  Socrates  remarks,  are 
sorely  in  need  of  such  a  general,  and  it  is  strange  that  they 
have  not  secured  Ion's  services ;  but  Ion  accounts  for  this  by 
the  Athenian  prejudice  against  foreigners. 

Plato's  famous  protest  against  the  educational  influence 
of  the  myths  is  pointed  with  especial  force  at  Homer.  But 

1  Plut.  Alcib.  7  jSifiXLov  $7T?<rec 'D/u^pi/cov,  ehroWos  5£  roO  di8a<TKd\ov 
fj.r)d£i>  Zxew  '0/j.ripov  KovdiiXy  Ka0i.KO/j.evos  Traprj\0ft>. 

2  The  point  is   curiously  illustrated   by   Lysias  (or.    10  §§  15  ff.), 
who  gives,  from  'the  old  laws  of  Solon,'  specimens  of  words  obsolete 
in  400 B.C. 

3  Homer  teaches  Ta'£e«,  dperds,  on-Xkreis  AvSpuv  (frogs  1036). 


CH.  III.]  HOMER   IN    ANTIQUITY.  83 

it  does  not  seem  to  have  materially  affected  the  place  of 
Homer  in  Greek  education.  At  the  close  of  the  first 
Christian  century  Dion  Chrysostom  speaks  of  the  Homeric 
poems  as  still  used  in  the  teaching  of  children  from  the 
very  beginning1. 

11.  Herodotus  remarks  (2.  53)  that  Homer  and  Hesiod  Homer's 
created  the  Greek  theogony.    They  did  this,  he  says,  in  four  ^  Greek 
respects.      They  gave  the  gods  their  titles  (JmmyUigu) — as  religion. 
Homer  calls  Zeus  Kpon'S^s,  and  Athene  Tptroyeveia.     They 

gave  them  their  prerogatives  (TI/ACU), — as  Poseidon  is  the 
sea-god,  Ares  the  god  of  war,  etc.  They  distinguished 
their  arts  or  faculties  (re^vou),  as  Hephaestus  is  the  artificer, 
Athene  the  giver  qf  skill  in  embroidery,  etc.  They  indi- 
cated their  personal  and  moral  characteristics,  (etSi?).  The 
statement  is  true  of  Hesiod  in  the  sense  that  the  'Theogony' 
is  a  storehouse  of  genealogical  details.  Homer  affected  the 
popular  conception  of  the  gods  in  a  larger  way.  He  traced 
types  of  divine  character  which  established  themselves  in  the 
Greek  imagination.  Sometimes,  indeed,  he  was  credited 
with  a  consciously  didactic  purpose  in  his  delineation  of  the 
gods,  even  by  writers  who  did  not  look  for  allegorical 
meanings.  Thus  Isocrates  says  that  Homer  feigns  the  gods 
deliberating,  because  he  wishes  to  teach  us  that,  if  gods 
cannot  read  the  future,  much  less  can  men8. 

12.  A  larger  and  a  truer  claim  might  be  made  for  the  work 
unconsciously  wrought  by  the  genius  of  the  poet.     Homeric 
mythology  contains  various  elements,  belonging  to  different 
stages  of  thought,  and  the  fusion  is  imperfect.     Coarse  or 
grotesque  traits  are  by  no  means  wanting.     But  there  is 
a  complete  absence  of  the  grossest  features  common  to  all 
early  mythologies.     There  are  no  amours  of  the  gods  in  the 
shapes   of   animals;    there  is  no  Cronus   swallowing  his 
children,    as   in   Hesiod.     Such   things   abounded   in    the 
oldest  Greek  temple-legends,  as  Pausanias  shows.     What- 
ever the  instinct  of  the  great  artist  has  tolerated,  at  least  it 

1  evOvs  ^|  &PXV,  or.  n.  p.  308. 
*  Adv.  Sophistas,  §  i. 

6—2 


84  HOMER.  [CH.  III. 

has  purged  these  things  away.  Further,  Homer  did  the 
Greeks  the  inestimable  service  of  making  them  conscious 
that  their  own  religious  sense  was  higher  than  their  mytho- 
logy,— a  trait  often  observed  in  other  races,  and  one  which 
naturally  tends  to  become  more  marked  when  it  has 
received  poetical  expression. 
The  Homer  was  the  ultimate  authority  concerning  the 

heroes  mentioned  in  the  two  great  poems.  Some  of 
these  heroes  were  objects  of  worship  in  the  historical  age. 
There  is  no  trace  in  Homer  of  divine  honours  paid 
to  men  after  death1.  But  the  Homeric  poems  must  have 
had  a  considerable  influence,  at  least  in  a  negative  sense, 
on  the  various  local  cults  of  later  times.  As  a  general 
rule,  the  burden  of  proof  would  have  been  held  to  rest 
with  any  local  priesthood  who  adopted  a  legend  at  dis- 
tinct variance  with  Homer.  On  the  other  hand  we  must 
not  overrate  this  restraining  influence.  In  some  cases,  at 
least,  it  failed"'. 

Greek  13.     Homer  was  justly  regarded  by  the  Greeks  as  their 

Homer    ear^est  historian.     But  the  historical  character  which  they 

as  a  his-  ascribed  to  him  was  not  merely  that  which  he  could  truly 

>nan.     c\a[m^  as  the  delineator  of  their  early  civilisation.     They 

held   that  his  events  and  his  persons  were,  in  the  main, 

real.     This  general  belief  was  not  affected  by  criticisms  of 

detail,  nor,  again,  by  the  manner  in  which  the  supernatural 

elements    might    be    viewed.      Thucydides    differs    from 

Herodotus  in   bringing  down   the  Homeric  heroes  more 

nearly  to  the  level  of  common  men.     But  the  basis  of  fact 

in  Homer  is  fully  as  real  to  Thucydides  as  to  Herodotus. 

1  Thus  in  the  Iliad  (3.  243)  the  Dioscuri  are  simply  men  who  had 
died,  and  had  been  buried  in  Lacedaemon.     The  later  notion  of  their 
alternate  immortality  appears  in  the  Odyssey  (n.  299 — 304).     Hesiod 
first  calls  the  heroes  ijfdQeoi  (Op.  160) ;  Homer  never  does  so,  except  in 
//.  12.  23,  a  verse  which  belongs  to  a  late  interpolation.     He  applies 
the  name  •fjpus  (akin  to  Lat.  vir)  to  any  respected  free  man.     The  cu.lt 
of  fipues  is  first  mentioned  by  Pindar. 

2  A  tomb  of  Castor  was  shown  also  at  Argos  (Plut.  Quaest.   Gr. 
c.  23).     Again,  the  Homeric  murder  of  Agamemnon  (Od.  4.  530  ff.) 
and  Oedipus-myth  (u.  271  ff.),  differ  from  the  later  versions. 


CH.  III.]  HOMER   IN    ANTIQUITY.  85 

Thucydides  treats  the  Homeric  Catalogue  as  a  historical 
document, — exaggerated,  perhaps,  in  its  numbers,  yet 
essentially  authentic.  He  treats  the  Phaeacians  as  a 
historical  people  who  had  dwelt  in  Corcyra. 

Appeals  to  the  historical  authority  of  Homer  are  not  rare  Ancient 
in  Greek  literature.  Thus  when  the  invasion  by  Xerxes  was  *£ j^au- 
imminent,  Sparta  and  Athens  sent  envoys  to  seek  help  from  thority. 
Gelon  of  Syracuse.  Gelon  said  that  he  would  help  if  he  might 
lead.  The  Spartans  replied  that  Agamemnon  would  groan  if 
he  could  hear  such  a  proposal;  while  the  Athenians  remarked 
that,  according  to  Homer,  it  was  Athens  that  had  sent  to 
Troy  the  best  man  of  all  to  marshal  an  army, — Menes- 
theus1.  When  the  Athenians  were  contending  with  the 
Megarians  for  Salamis,  they  quoted  Iliad  2.  558,  where 
the  Salaminian  Ajax  stations  his  ships  with  the  Athenians 
(Arist.  Rhet.  i.  15).  Pericles,  in  the  Thucydidean  funeral 
speech,  says  that  the  achievements  of  Athens  render  her 
independent  of  Homer's  praise8.  The  point  of  the  passage 
depends  on  the  fact  that  Homer  was  the  witness  to  whom 
Greek  cities  and  families  especially  appealed  in  evidence 
of  their  prehistoric  greatness;  as  Thucydides  elsewhere 
contrasts  the  poor  aspect  of  Mycenae  in  his  own  time 
with  the  past  grandeur  which  Homer  attests. 

14.  As  early  as  the  seventh  century  B.C.  other  poems  Poems 
besides  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  were  popularly  attributed  ^Cpj0 
to  Homer.  Callinus,  who  flourished  about  690  B.C.,  be-merin 
lieved  Homer  to  be  the  author  of  an  epic  called  the 
TJiebais,  as  Pausanias  tells  us  (9.  9.  5).  It  appears  from 
Herodotus  that  an  epic  called  the  Cypria  and  another  called 
the  Epigoni  were  believed  to  be  Homer's.  Herodotus 
does  not  commit  himself  in  regard  to  the  Epigoni.  But 
he  denies  the  Homeric  authorship  of  the  Cypria,  because 
he  finds  in  it  a  statement  which  conflicts  with  the  Iliad*. 

1  Herod.  7.  159—161 :  cp.  //.  7.  125,  a.  552. 
a  Thuc.  2.  41  §  4:  cp.  i.  10  §  i  (on  Mycenae). 
3  Her.   a.    117   (Cypria):    4.    32    (Epigoni).     In    the   Cypria,   as 
Her.  knew  it,  Paris  reached   Troy  in  3  days  from   Sparta,  whereas 


86  HOMER.  [CH.  III. 

This  suggests  how  little  these  attributions  probably  regarded 
the  evidence  of  style,  language,  or  spirit.  Unless  there 
was  some  contradiction  on  the  surface,  the  attribution  could 
pass  current,  or  could  be  left  an  open  question.  A  comic 
poem  called  the  Margites  was  ascribed  to  Homer  by 
Aristotle1.  Many  other  humorous  pieces  were  called 
Homer's — the  best  known  being  the  parody  called  the 
Battle  of  the  Frogs  and  Mice  (Batrachomyomachia) 2.  The 
so-called  Epigrams  anciently  ascribed  to  him  are  short 
popular  poems  or  fragments, — pieces  of  folk-lore  which 
had  acquired  a  half-proverbial  character, — and,  which,  in 
some  cases  at  least,  are  probably  very  old8.  The  'Hymns' 
were  also  generally  attributed  to  Homer.  Thucydides 
(3.  104)  quotes  the  Hymn  to  the  Delian  Apollo  in 

the  Iliad  (6.  290)  sent  him  to  Sidon — on  the  same  occasion,  as  Her. 
assumes.  Before  the  Cypria  was  incorporated  into  the  Epic  Cycle, 
it  was  altered  (as  we  know  from  Proclus)  in  this  very  particular : 
a  storm  was  brought  in,  which  drove  Paris  to  Sidon.  The  criticism 
of  Her.  had  told. 

1  Poet.  4.     The  Mapytrrjs  was  a  feebly  versatile  person,  who  tried 
many  things,  but  excelled  in  nothing.     Only  a  few  verses  are  extant, 
of  which    iroXX'    ijirlffTaro    Zpya,    KCLKUS    8'    r)irL<rra.To    iravra     ([Plat.] 
Alcib.  II.  147  B)  is  the  most  significant.     The  piece  may  have  been  as 
old  as  700  B.  c.     Aristotle  considers  it  the  Homeric  germ  of  comedy, 
as  the  serious  epics  were  of  tragedy. 

2  This  mock-heroic  piece,  of  which  305  verses  are  extant,  cannot 
well  be  later  than  about  160  B.C.,  and  was  by  some  ascribed  to  Pigres, 
the  brother  (?)  of  Artemisia,  circ.  475  B.C.     It  was  doubtless  on  the 
strength    of   the    really  ancient    Margites    that    later    iralyvia   were 
attributed  to  Homer. 

8  The  16  'epigrams,' — containing  altogether  109  hexameter  verses, 
— are  subjoined  to  the  older  editions  of  Homer  (as  to  Didot's).  Of 
the  16,  only  3  contain  as  many  as  10  lines.  The  localities  mentioned 
all  belong  to  the  West  coast  of  Asia  Minor  (except  that  no.  16 
speaks  of  Arcadia) :  viz.  the  Aeolian  Cyme  (2 ,  4) :  Neonteichos,  a 
colony  of  Cyme  on  the  river  Hertnus  (i) :  Mount  Ida  (10) :  the 
Aeolo-Ionian  Smyrna,  and  its  river  Meles  (4) :  the  Ionian  Erythrae, 
opposite  Chios  (7),  and  Cape  Mimas  just  N.  of  it  (6) :  Samos  (title 
of  12).  Perhaps  the  most  interesting  is  no.  4 — a  complaint  by  a 
poet  who  had  come  from  Smyrna  to  Cyme, — had  been  ill-received, — 
and  meditates  emigrating. 


CH.  III.]  HOMER   IN    ANTIQUITY.  87 

reference  to  the  Ionian  festival  at  Delos,  and  expressly 
identifies  Homer  with  the  'blind  man'  there  mentioned, 
who  '  dwells  in  rocky  Chios.' 

15.     This  leads  us  to  the  ancient  notices  of  Homer's  Notices 

life.     It  is  probable  that  nearly  all  of  them  are   founded  of  *?°' 

mer  s 

on  poems  which  were  generally  ascribed  to  him,  and  which  life, 
were  taken  as  containing  bits  of  genuine  autobiography. 
This  is  clearly  the  case  in  regard  to  several  of  the  legends 
about  his  birth-place.  The  Margites,  for  example,  spoke  of 
its  author — 'an  old  man,  a  divine  singer,' — as  coming  to 
Colophon.  The  Delian  hymn  sanctioned  the  claim  of  Chios. 
One  of  the  epigrams  was  held  to  vouch  for  Smyrna ;  another 
supported  Cyme.  Other  competitors  were  los — a  small 
island  of  the  Cyclades  group,  which  stood  alone  in  claiming 
his  grave — Rhodes — Salamis — Ithaca — Argos — Athens — 
Thessaly — and  Egyptian  Thebes.  But  the  favourites  were 
Smyrna,  Chios,  Colophon;  and  the  ancient  world  gave  a 
decided  preference  to  Smyrna1.  Among  the  great  Ionian 
cities,  Miletus  is  remarkable  as  not  being  connected  by  any 
legend  with  Homer. 

The  extant  Greek  lives  of  Homer  are  all  late, — pro-  The 
bably  in  no  case  earlier  than  about  the  second  century  A.  D.,  'Lives  • 
a  period  fertile  in   rhetorical   forgeries.     The  Life  written 
in   Ionic  which   bears   the   name   of  Herodotus   was  ob- 
viously ascribed  to  him   on    ihe  strength   of  the  passage 

1  Antipater  of  Sidon  (circ.  100  B.C.),  in  his  epigram  (Anthol. 
Planudea  4.  296)  puts  the  three  strongest  claimants  first: — ol  (i-tv  <rev 
Ko\o(f>uva  n6i]vi]Tfipa.v,  "Ofjujpc,  \  ol  dt  Ka\av  2/j.tipva.v,  oi  5'  Mtrovm 
'S.tov.  Another  epigram  was  ITTTO.  ir6\«s  8i(pifovffii>  irepl  pl£cu>'Q(jnfipov,  \ 
-/u'pva,  'P65os,  KoXo0wi»,  ZaXautV,  *Ios,  "Apyos,  'AOyvai.  Two  other 
versions  of  it,  with  lists  partly  different,  occur  in  Anthol.  Plan.  4.  297, 
298.  The  best-known  Latin  couplet  was  'Smyrna,  Rhodos,  Colophon, 
Salamis,  Chios,  Argos,  Athenae,  I  Orbis,  de  patria  certat,  Homere,  tua'. 
Egyptian  Thebes  is  added  in  Lucian  Encom.  Demosth.  §  9.  Suidas  gives 
a  prodigious  list,  including  Rome.  Strabo  mentions  Smyrna  as  T^V  vwb 
TUV  ir\elffT<av  \cyontvijv  afrrov  irarplSa.  See  Geddes,  Problem  of 
Horn.  Poems,  pp.  239  f.  It  is  significant  that  the  old  myths  (preserved 
in  the  'Lives')  made  Homer  TAf\i)fftyfv^,  \  son  of  the  river  Meles  at 
Smyrna  by  a  nymph  Crithei's.  Smyrna  was  Aeolo-Ionian. 


88  HOMER.  [CH.  III. 

in  which  he  expresses  a  view  as  to  Homer's  age  (2.  53), — 
viz.  that  he  had  lived  not  much  before  850  B.C.  Some  con- 
temporaries of  Herodotus,  we  may  infer,  assumed  an  earlier 
date.  It  is  to  be  noted  that  legend  spoke  of  Homer's 
poems  as  having  been  preserved  and  transmitted,  not  by  a 
son,  but  by  a  friend  (some  call  him  a  son-in-law),  Creophylus 
of  Sam  os — whose  descendants,  settled  in  Crete,  afterwards 
gave  them  to  the  Spartan  Lycurgus.  Here,  perhaps,  we  may 
recognise  one  of  the  earliest  rhapsodes,  who  was  also  a  poet. 

The  earliest  trace  of  Homer  in  literature  is  the  reference 
to  ^m  ^n  a  ^ost  Poem  °f  Callmus,  circ.  690  B.  c.,  already 
mentioned  (§  14)  as  reported  by  Pausanias.  The  earliest 
mention  of  Homer's  name  in  extant  work  is  by  the  philo- 
sopher Xenophanes  of  Colophon  (fire.  510  B.C.),  who  says 
that  'Homer  and  Hesiod  have  imputed  to  the  gods  all 
that  is  blame  and  shame  for  men1.'  The  earliest  quota- 
tion from  Homer  is  made  by  Simonides  of  Ceos2,  born 
556  B.C.,  who  quotes  //.  6.  148  as  an  utterance  of  'the  man 
of  Chios. ' 

Thus,  while  the  belief  of  the  ancient  Greeks  in 
a  personal  Homer  was  unquestioning,  his  personality  was 
shadowy,  and  could  be  associated  with  inconsistent  legends. 
We  have  seen  that  a  similar  uncertainty  prevailed  as  to 
the  criteria  of  his  authentic  work  :  any  composition  in 
epic  verse  could  be  ascribed  to  Homer  if  it  only  seemed 
sufficiently  good  of  its  kind.  In  a  word,  the  attitude  of 
Greece  towards  Homer,  before  the  Alexandrian  age,  was 
wholly  uncritical. 

1  ap.  Sextus  Empiricus  adv.  Mathem.  9.   193  irwra.  Oeois  av£6-r)Kav 
"Q/j.r)p&s  6' '  Hcrio56s  re  \  8<r<ra  irap1  dvOp&iroiffiv  dveldfa  Kal  \f/6yos  forl,  \ 
/cX^Trrew  fioixtfau'  TS   Kal   ctXXijXous    diraTeveiv.      Timon    the    satirist 
(270   B.C.)   called  Xenophanes  'O/nj/mTrar^s  iinKoirrri^   (castigator  of 
Homeric  fiction),  unless,  with  Kuhn,  we  read  'O/x^oTrar^s  (trampler  on 
Homer).     Heracleitus,  the  contemporary  of  Xenophanes,  is  quoted  by 
Diog.  Laert.  9.  i  as  saying  that  Homer  (and  Archilochus)  deserved  to 
be  scourged  (Heracl.  fr.  119). 

2  Or  Simonides  of  Amorgos  (660  B.C.),  as  Bergk  surmises  from  the 
style  (Poet.  Lyr.,  3rd  ed.,  p.  1146).     Fr.  85  lt>  8t  TO  Ka\\iffToi>  Xtos 
tfiirev  av'w  |  otrjTTfp  <pv\\uv  jeverj,  roiTjSe  Kal  avdpwv. 


CH.  III.J  HOMER    IN    ANTIQUITY.  89 

1  6.  But,  though  he  was  not  yet  a  subject  of  critical 
study,  he  was  already  a  cause  of  intellectual  activity.  In  the 
sixth,  fifth,  and  fourth  centuries  B.C.  the  Homeric  poetry  gave 
manifold  occupation  to  ingenious  or  frivolous  minds.  Al- 
most at  the  beginning  of  philosophical  reflection  in  Greece 
the  moral  sense  of  some  thinkers  rebelled  against  the 
Homeric  representation  of  the  gods.  The  protest  of  Xeno- 
phanes  has  just  been  quoted.  Hence  arose  the  allegorising 
school  of  Homeric  interpretation.  Allegory  afforded  a 
refuge  for  the  defenders  of  Homer.  Theagenes  of  Rhegium,  Alle- 
circ.  525  B.  C.,  is  mentioned  as  the  earliest  of  the  alle- 
gorizers1.  He  combined  two  modes  of  allegorizing  which  tation 
afterwards  diverged,  —  the  moral  (or  mental),  and  the 
physical  :  thus  Hera  was  the  air  ;  Aphrodite  was  love. 
The  moral  allegorising  was  continued  in  the  next  century  by 
Anaxagoras,  who  explained  Zeus  as  mind,  Athene  as  art 
The  physical  mode  was  developed  by  Metrodorus  of 
Lampsacus.  Aristotle  refers  to  the  allegorizers  as  '  the  old 
Homerists  '  (ol  apxaioi  'O/trjpiKoi),  and  remarks  that  '  they 
see  small  resemblances,  but  overlook  large  ones  '  (Metaph. 
I3'  6,  7).  The  allegorizers  of  the  classical  age  were 
equalled,  or  surpassed,  in  misapplied  subtlety  by  the  Neo- 
platonists  of  the  third  century  A.  D.,  who  discovered  their 
own  mystic  doctrines  in  Homer8. 


6  "Piftlvos,  6  *carA  Kafi(:i6ffr)i>  yeyovut,  is  named  by  Tatian 
adv.  Graec.  §  48  (quoted  by  Euseb.  Praep.  Evang.  x.  2)  at  the  head  of 
a  list  of  the  earliest  writers  (ol  Tpeffpuraroi)  who  dealt  with  inquiries  as 
to  Homer's  'poetry,  birth,  and  date.  '  In  Plato's  time  (cp.  Ion  5300) 
the  highest  repute  for  comment  on  Homer  was  enjoyed  by  Stesimbrotus 
of  Thasos  and  Metrodorus  of  Lampsacus.  They,  as  well  as  Theagenes 
and  Anaxagoras,  are  among  the  commentators  mentioned  in  the 
Venetian  Scholia.  Wolf  well  describes  the  method  of  the  allegorizers: 
'  interpretation  sua  corrigere  fabulas  atque  ad  physicam  et  moralem  doc- 
trinam  suae  aetatis  accommodare,  denique  historias  et  reliqua  fere  omnia 
ad  involucra  exquisitae  sapientiae  trahere  coeperunt  '  (ProUg.  cxxxvi). 

3  Porphyrius  (fire.  370  A.D.),  the  pupil  of  Plotinus,  has  left  a  choice 
specimen  of  this  in  his  treatise  lit  pi  roC  iv  'OSwrffeiq.  TUV  "Sviufruv  dm-pov, 
an  allegorizing  explanation,  from  the  Neoplatonic  point  of  view,  of  the 
cave  of  the  nymphs  in  the  Odyssey. 


o  HOMER.  [CH.  III. 

Rhetori-  1 7.  Rhetorical  dialectic  also  busied  itself  with  Homer ; 
sometimes  by  applying  a  kind  of  sophistical  analysis,  which 
aimed  at  detecting  incongruities  of  thought  or  language.  The 
sophist  Protagoras  (who  applies  this  method  to  Simonides 
in  Plato  Prot.  339  A)  objected  to  i^viv  a«Se  Oea,  because 
Homer  ought  to  have  prayed  the  goddess  to  sing,  instead  of 
commanding  her1.  Sometimes,  again,  we  hear  of  declamations 
on  Homeric  themes.  Thus  the  sophist  Hippias  made  Homer 
the  subject  of  '  displays '  at  the  Olympic  festivals.  In 
Plato's  dialogue  (Hippias  Minor)  he  maintains  that  Achilles 
is  the  bravest,  Nestor  the  wisest,  and  Odysseus  the  wiliest, 
of  Homeric  characters.  Both  these  forms  of  treatment, 
the  analytic  and  the  declamatory,  were  probably  used  by 
the  '  Homeromastix,'  Zoilus  of  Amphipolis  (circ.  280  B.  C.  ?), 
who  was  only  the  best  known  type  of  a  class2. 
Rationa-  18.  Another  kind  of  interpretation  applied  to  Homer 
deism0""  was  ^iat  wmcn  aimed  at  reducing  the  narrative  to  intelligible 
historical  fact.  Thucydides  affords  examples ;  as  when  he 
suggests  that  the  Greek  chiefs  went  to  Troy,  not  because 
they  had  promised  Helen's  father  to  avenge  her,  but 
because  the  power  of  Agamemnon  constrained  them;  or 
when  he  accounts  for  the  ten  years'  resistance  of  Troy 
by  the  fact  that  the  energies  of  the  Greeks  were  partly 
given  to  providing  themselves  with  food.  We  may  suppose 
that  this  method  was  fully  developed  by  Callisthenes  (circ. 
330  B.C.),  who,  in  his  history  of  Greece,  devoted  a  separate 
book  to  the  Trojan  War.  The  same  tendency  often  appears 
in  later  writers,  as  Polybius,  Diodorus,  Strabo,  and  Pau- 
sanias8. 

1  cvxeff6cu  olopevos  ^Trrrdrret  (Arist.   Poet.  21.)     See  Spengel  away, 
rexvwv  p.  45.     Aristophanes  burlesques  the  cavilling  sophistical  method 
in  the  verbal  criticisms  of  Euripides  on  Aeschylus  in  the  frog's. 

2  Lehrs  thinks  that,  of  the  works  ascribed   to  Zoilus,  the   ^670* 
'0/j.ripov  was  a  declamation,  while  the  /COT&  TTJS  TOU  '0/j.ripov  iroujcrews 
Xcryoi  tvvta.  (Suidas)  were  in  the  style  of  sophistical  analysis. 

8  This  'pragmatizing'  method  is  especially  associated  with  the 
Sicilian  Euhemerus  (circ.  330 B.C.).  But  the  distinctive  point  of  his 
theory  was  that  the  gods,  no  less  than  the  heroes,  had  been  men, 


CH.  III.'I  HOMER    IN   ANTIQUITY.  91 

Aristotle's  comments  on  Homer,  as  illustrating  the 
characteristics  of  epic  poetry,  have  been  noticed  in  Chapter 
I.  (p.  4).  He  also  wrote  a  treatise,  now  lost,  on  difficulties 
suggested  by  Homer l. 

19.  But  it  was  at  Alexandria  that  Homeric  criticism,  in 
the  proper  sense,  began.  The  materials  for  it,  indeed,  were 
for  the  first  time  brought  together  in  such  great  libraries 
as  those  of  Alexandria  and  Pergamum.  Our  knowledge 
of  these  materials  is  derived  from  the  Homeric  scholia. 

The  editions  of  Homer  in  the  Alexandrian  library  were  Alex- 
chiefly  of  two  classes,     (i)  Editions  known  by  the  names  of  anclria.n 
individual  editors.     The  earliest  recorded   edition  of  this  for  Ho- 
class  is  that  by  the  epic  poet  Antimachus,  of  Clarus  in  m?"c 
Ionia  (arc.  410  B.  c.).     Such  editions  are  sometimes  cited  cism. 
separately,  by   the   editor's   name;    as  T;  'Avri/xa^tios   (sc. 
cxSoo-is).     Sometimes   they   are   cited   collectively,  as   'the 
private  editions'  (at  KO.T  avSpa)8.     (2)  The  other  great  class 
consisted  of  editions  known  only  by  the  names  of  cities. 
Such  were  the  editions  of  Massalia,  Chios,  Argos,  Sinope, 
Cyprus3.     When   cited   collectively,  these  are  called  'the 

who,  after  their  deaths,  were  deified  by  admiring  posterity.  Thus  such 
rationalising  as  that  of  Thucydides  stops  short  of  'Euhemerism'  proper. 

1  diropri/j.aTa  (or  firrfinaTa,  or  Trpoj3\rjfjMTa)'OnrjpiKd.  Porphyry  often 
refers  to  it  in  his  own  ^rj-njfiara  'Ofi-npucd :  but  the  book  from  which  he 
quotes  cannot,  as  Lehrs  thinks,  have  been  the  genuine  work  of  Aristotle 
(De  Aristarchi  Stud.  Horn.  p.  111).  The  terms  tvara.Ti.Kol  ('objectors') 
and  \\rriKol  ('solvers',  answerers)  were  especially  applied  to  gram- 
marians who  impugned  or  defended  points  in  Homer. 

*  Aristarchus  had  at  least  six  such  editions,  ranging  from  the  end  of 
the  5th  to  the  beginning  of  the  2nd  cent.  B.  c., — those  of  Antimachus, 
Zenodotus,  Rhianus  (the  Alexandrian  poet),  Sosigenes,  Philemon,  and 
Aristophanes.  Didymus  (arc.  30  B.  c.)  had  also  that  of  Callistratus, 
and  perhaps  others.  In  Plut.  Alcib.  7  a  schoolmaster  (fire.  420  B.  c.) 
says  that  he  has  a  Homer  '  corrected  by  himself  (v<f>'  airrov  SiupBufitvov). 
The  anecdote  suggests  the  scope  which  such  diopQuxrett,  at  least  in  the 
earlier  times,  may  have  given  to  private  caprice. 

3  TJ  Mao-ffctXtum/oJ,  i)  Xfo,  17  'Apyo\iKJ,  -i)  Swanri/ciJ,  77  TLvrpla  (or 
These  five  seem  to  have  been  the  only  '  civic '  editions  used 


Q2  HOMER.  [CH.  III. 

civic  editions  '  (at  Kara  Tro'Aecs)  '.  There  is  no  proof  that  they 
represented  texts  authorised  for  public  use.  It  is  more 
probable  that  their  names  merely  indicated  the  places  from 
which  they  had  come,  their  revisers  being  unknown.  Besides 
these  two  classes  of  editions,  there  were  other  texts  desig- 
nated as  '  common  '  or  '  popular  '  (KOIVCU,  S^fwoSeis).  These 
are  the  same  which  are  described  as  'the  more  careless' 
),  being  opposed  to  the  more  accurate  or  scholarly 


Taken  altogether,  the  copies  known  to  the  Alexandrians 
must  have  rested  on  an  older  vulgate  text,  of  which  the 
sources  are  unknown.  This  is  indicated  by  the  narrow 
limits  of  textual  divergence.  The  Alexandrian  critics 
notice  only  differences  in  regard  to  the  reading  of  particular 
verses,  or  to  omissions  and  additions  of  a  very  small  kind. 
There  is  no  trace  of  larger  discrepancies  or  dislocations. 
Such,  however,  could  not  have  failed  to  exist  if  there  had 
not  been  a  common  basis  of  tradition. 

20.  The  earlier  activity  of  Homeric  criticism  at  Alexan- 
dria belongs  to  the  period  from  about  270  B.  C.  to  150  B.  c., 
and  is  associated  with  three  men  —  Zenodotus,  Aristophanes, 
and  Aristarchus. 

Zenodotus,  a  native  of  Ephesus,  was  made  Librarian  of 
the  Alexandrian  Museum  by  Ptolemy  Philadelphus,  who 
reigned  from  285  to  247  B.  c.  He  published  a  recension  of 
Homer,  and  a  Homeric  glossary  ('O/x^piKtu  yAwcrcrcu).  In 
the  dawn  of  the  new  scholarship,  he  appears  as  a  gifted  man 
with  a  critical  aim,  but  without  an  adequate  critical  method. 
He  insisted  on  the  study  of  Homer's  style  ;  but  he  failed  to 

by  Aristarchus.  They  are  placed  here  in  the  order  of  frequency  with 
which  they  are  mentioned  in  the  scholia.  The  editions  of  Massalia  and 
Argos  contained  Odyssey  as  well  as  Iliad;  in  regard  to  the  others, 
nothing  is  known  on  this  point.  The  Cretan  edition  (KpjjTtKjJ)  probably 
was  not  used  by  Aristarchus.  The  Ato\iK^  (or  AioXls)  is  cited  only  for 
some  variants  in  the  Odyssey.  See  Ludwich,  Aristarchs  Horn.  Text- 
kritik,  I.  4. 

1  Also  ai  dirb  (or  £K,  or  5id)  rwv  iroXeuv:  or  simply  at  TWV  TroXewj',  or 
al  7ro\m/ca/. 


CH.  III.]  HOMER   IN    ANTIQUITY.  93 

place  that  study  on  a  sound  basis.  One  cause  of  this  was 
that  he  often  omitted  to  distinguish  between  the  ordinary 
usages  of  words  and  those  peculiar  to  Homer.  In  regard 
to  dialect,  again,  he  did  not  sufficiently  discriminate  the 
older  from  the  later  Ionic.  And,  relying  too  much  on 
his  own  feeling  for  Homer's  spirit,  he  indulged  in  some 
arbitrary  emendations.  Still,  he  broke  new  ground;  his 
work  had  a  great  repute ;  and,  to  some  extent,  its  influence 
was  lasting. 

21.  Aristophanes  of  Byzantium  (circ.  200  B.  c.)  was  the  Aristo- 
pupil  of  Zenodotus,  whom  he  followed  (though  not  imme-  p  ane 
diately)  in  the  office  of  Librarian.   He,  too,  published  a  recen- 
sion of  Homer.    There  is  no  proof  that  his  work  was  founded 

on  that  of  Zenodotus ;  and,  in  some  respects  at  least,  it  seems 
to  have  marked  an  advance.  Aristophanes  had  more  respect 
for  manuscript  evidence.  His  wide  erudition  also  enabled 
him,  in  many  cases,  to  defend  readings  which  his  prede- 
cessor had  too  hastily  condemned '. 

22.  Aristarchus2,  a  native  of  Samothrace,  was  a  pupil  Aristar- 
of  Aristophanes,  and  his  successor  in  the  headship  of  the  chus" 
Library.     The  first  half  of  the  second  century  B.C.  is  the 
period  to  which  his  active  life  belonged,  and  the  time  of  his 
highest  eminence  might  be  placed  about  160  B.C. 

His  contributions  to  Homeric  study  were  of  three  kinds. 
(i)(rvyypa/A/xaTa,  treatises  on  special  Homeric  questions,  some- 
times polemical.  (2)  u7ro//,vr//u.aTa,  continuous  commentaries 

1  In  some  cases  where  Zenodotus  had  expelled  a  verse  from  the 
text  (oi)5£  fy/xx^e),  Aristophanes  was  content  to  leave  it  in  the  text, 
marking  it  with  the  obelus  as  spurious  ((Were??).  The  difference 
between  the  two  men  is  well  illustrated  by  an  example  to  which  Lehrs 
refers  (p.  352).  Anacreon  describes  a  fawn  as  forsaken  Kepo&r<n7j...uird 
/uaTpoj.  Zenodotus  wrote  fyo&roTjs  ('  lovely '),  on  the  ground  that  only 
the  males  have  horns.  Aristophanes  vindicated  the  text  by  showing 
that  the  poets  ascribe  horns  to  hinds  as  well  as  to  stags.  Schol.  Find. 
Ol.  3.  52 :  Aelian  Hist.  An.  7.  39. 

3  The  principal  authorities  on  Aristarchus  are  K.  Lehrs  De  Arisl. 
Studiis  Homericis  (3rd  ed.,  1882);  and  A.  Ludwich,  Arisiarchs 
Honurische  Textkritik  (2  vols.,  1884 — 5). 


94  HOMER.  [CH.  III. 

on  the  Homeric  text.  These  seem  to  have  been  current, 
partly  in  a  finished  form,  partly  in  the  shape  of  rough  notes, 
either  made  by  himself  for  use  in  lectures,  or  taken  down 
by  his  hearers.  (3)  e/cSoVeis,  editions  of  the  Homeric  text. 
He  published  two  such '.  The  second  appears  to  have  been 
later  than  the  commentaries,  and  to  have  closed  his  Homeric 
labours.  In  his  text  of  Homer  he  used  an  apparatus  of 
critical  signs,  forming  a  sort  of  critical  short-hand  or  cipher, 
by  which  his  readers  could  see  at  a  glance  when  he  thought 
a  verse  spurious, — when  he  thought  that  it  was  out  of  its 
right  place, — or  when  it  contained  any  point  which  he  had 
illustrated  in  his  commentaries.  This  system  of  signs  had 
been  partly  used  by  the  Alexandrians  before  him,  and  was 
further  elaborated  by  later  grammarians2. 

23.  Aristarchus  was  the  greatest  scholar,  and  the  best 
Homeric  critic,  of  antiquity.  Three  general  aspects  of  his 
work  may  be  noted,  (i)  He  carefully  studied  the  Homeric 

1  Ammonius,  the  pupil  of  Aristarchus,  wrote  a  tract,  -n-fpl  TOV  /j.rj 
yeyovtvai  Tr\elovas  enSocreis  rys  '  ApiarapxeLov   5top0okrews.     Ludwich 
agrees  with  Lehrs  in  explaining  this  to  mean,  'not  more  than  two.'     I 
confess  that  the  explanation  seems  to  me  a  little  forced.     Ammonius 
wrote  also  trepl  rrjs  £ireK5o6el<rr)s  Siopducrfus.     May  he  not  have  meant 
that  the  so-called  second  recension  was  only  a  modification  of  the  first? 

2  The  ffrifj.ela  used  by  Aristarchus  seem  to  have  been  six  only,     (i) 
The  o&elus  (6/3eXds,  or  'spit'),  — ,  prefixed  to  a  verse  to  indicate  its 
condemnation  as  spurious  (dOer-riffis).     This  sign  had  already  been  used 
by  Zenodotus  and  Aristophanes.     (2)   The  diple  (diirXrj),  £1    (also    >-, 
t-3,  or  •<  ),  a  general  mark  of  reference  to  the  commentaries  of  Aristarchus, 
placed   against  a  verse  which  contained  anything  notable,  either  in 
language  or  in  matter.     (3)  The  dotted  diple,  (§iir\fj  •trfpietrTiy/j.^r)^  i*, 
prefixed  to  a  verse  in  which  the  reading  of  Aristarchus  differed  from 
that  of  Zenodotus.     (4)   The  asterisk  (do-replffKos),  *,  when  used  alone, 
merely  drew  attention  to  a  repeated  verse.     Thus  it  was  prefixed  to 
//.  2.  180  because  that  verse  is  the  same  (plus  8')  as  164.     But  if  a 
repeated  verse  seemed  to  be  spurious  in  one  of  the  two  places  where  it 
occurred,  the  asterisk  with  obelus,  *  — ,  was  prefixed  to  that  place.     (5) 
The  antisigma,  3,  and  (6)  the  stigme  or  dot  (ort-y/xij),  were  used  in 
conjunction.    Aristarchus  thought  that  //.  2.  192  should  be  immediately 
followed  by  w.  203 — 205.     He  prefixed  the  3  to  192,  and  dots  (for  in 
Ven.  A.  the  C  must  be  an  error,  see  Ludwich  I.  p.  209)  to  203 — 205. 


CH.    III.]  HOMER    IN   ANTIQUITY.  95 

usages  of  words  —  recognising  that  criticism  of  the  matter 
must  be  based  on  accurate  knowledge  of  the  language.  Pre- 
vious grammarians  had  dealt  chiefly  with  rare  or  archaic 
words  (yXwo-o-ai).  Aristarchus  aimed  further  at  defining 
the  Homeric  sense  of  familiar  words  —  remarking  (e.g.]  that 
Homer  always  has  <58e  in  the  sense  of  '  thus  '  (never  as  = 
'here'  or  'hither');  that  Homer  uses  /JaAAciv  of  missiles, 
but  ovTa£«v  of  wounding  at  close  quarters  ;  <£o/2o?,  in  the 
sense  of  'flight';  TTO'VOS,  especially  with  reference  to  battle; 
"OAu/uTTos  (in  the  Iliad),  of  the  actual  mountain.  (2)  In 
forming  his  text,  he  gave  full  weight  to  manuscript  au- 
thority. When  this  test  left  him  in  doubt  between  two 
readings,  he  was  guided  by  '  the  usage  of  the  poet  V  So 
far  from  being  rash  in  correcting  the  text,  he  appears  to 
have  been  extremely  cautious.  In  contrast  with  Zenodotus, 
he  abstained  from  merely  conjectural  readings.  He  was 
even  censured  by  later  critics  for  excess  of  caution,  —  and 
perhaps  with  some  reason2.  (3)  He  commented  on  the 
subject-matter  of  Homer.  He  compared  the  Homeric 
versions  of  myths  with  those  in  other  writers  ;  and  noticed 
characteristic  points  of  the  Homeric  civilisation.  He 
seems  to  have  made  a  chart  showing  the  topography 
of  the  Trojan  plain  and  the  Greek  camp  :  and  he  notes 
(e.g.)  that  Homer  means  Thessaly  by  "Apyos 
and  Peloponnesus  by  "Apyos  ' 


Again,  //.  8.  535  —  537  had  the  antisignia,  and  538  —  541  the  stigme, 
because  the  latter  group  seemed  to  repeat  the  sense  of  the  former. 
The  stigme  was  also  used  alone  as  a  mark  of  suspected  spuriousness. 
Aristophanes  used  the  nepavviov,  T»  as  a  collective  obelus  when  several 
consecutive  verses  were  adjudged  spurious.  The  dotted  antisigma  •>  was 
used  by  some  to  mark  tautology.  But  these  two  signs  were  not 
Aristarchean. 

1  TO  eOifiov  TOV  voirrrov,  Apollonius  Dyscolus  synt.  p.  77  (Lehrs  p. 
360),  who  says  that  it  was  this  which  led  Aristarchus  to  write  irws  Sal 
rut  Tpwwr  q>v\a.Kal,  instead  of  ITWJ  5'  al.  (II.  10.  408). 

2  Lehrs  p.  363:  'Minime  audax  Aristarchus;  imo  mihi  certum  est 
si  quid  Aristarchus  peccavit  in  contrarium  peccasse.'      Cp.  ib.  p.  359 
(!/irt>  irepiTTijs  ei)Xa]3efas  ov5tv  nfrt6t)Kfv).      Wolf  (Prolegomena  ch.   i) 
held  that    Aristarchus  erred,  through  a  too  prosaic  strictness  (nimia 


96  HOMER.  [CH.  III. 

Didymus.  24.  All  that  is  now  known  concerning  the  work  of  Aris- 
tarchus  has  come  down  in  a  way  which  it  is  curious  to  trace. 
Early  in  the  Augustan  age,  about  120  years  after  the  death 
of  Aristarchus,  a  treatise  on  his  recension  of  Homer  (Trept 
T-f)<>  'Apurrapxetov  8iop$oKrea>s)  was  written  by  Didymus,  the 
Alexandrian  grammarian,  called  XaXfuvrepos  from  his  inde- 
fatigable industry.  The  object  of  Didymus  was  to  ascertain 
the  readings  approved  by  Aristarchus.  Why  was  such  a 
work  needed?  It  has  been  suggested  that  the  authentic 
copies  of  the  Aristarchean  text  may  have  perished  by  the 
fire  in  the  Alexandrian  War  (47  B.C.).  Such  a  supposition 
seems,  however,  hardly  necessary.  The  criticism  of  Aris- 
tarchus had  been  gradually  developed,  and  was  embodied 
in  a  long  series  of  works.  It  is  possible  that  a  clear  and 
complete  view  of  his  opinions,  with  the  grounds  for  them, 
could  be  obtained  only  by  a  careful  collation  of  his  various 
Homeric  writings,  and  that  this  was  the  task  which  Didymus 
undertook. 

Aris-  Aristonicus  of  Alexandria,  a  younger  contemporary  of 

tonicus.  Didymus,  wrote  a  treatise  on  the  critical  signs  employed  by 
Aristarchus  in  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  (irepl  cr^ctwi/ 
'lAiaSos  KOL  'OSuo-o-eias).  In  this  book  he  quoted  the  views 
of  Aristarchus  concerning  the  verses  to  which  the  various 
signs  were  prefixed. 

Herodian        Herodian  (circ.  160  A.  D.)  wrote  a  treatise  on  the  prosody 
??.d  and  accentuation  of  the  Iliad  ('IXia/o}  TrpocrwSia).     Nicanor 

(130  A.D.)  wrote   a   book   on  Homeric  punctuation  (irepi, 
,  —  which,  by  the  way,  procured  him  the  nickname 


The  2  5-     About  200  —  250  A.D.  it  occurred  to  some  student  of 

Epitome.  tne  Iliad  to  make  extracts  from  these  four  writers,  Didymus, 
Aristonicus,  Herodian,  and  Nicanor.  He  wove  his  extracts 
from  them  into  a  sort  of  continuous  annotation  on  the 
Homeric  text.  Thus  arose  the  Epitome  of  the  four  treatises, 
which,  for  shortness,  we  may  call  '  the  Epitome.' 

sobrietate   acuminis),  in  condemning  too  much,  but  had  the  counter- 
vailing merit  of  introducing  nothing  rashly. 


CH.  III.]  HOMER    IN   ANTIQUITY.  97 

In  the  tenth  century,  a  transcriber  of  the  Iliad  copied  Codex 

._      .  .  .   .      .  -         VenetusA. 

the  Epitome  into  its  margin.    By  this  time,  the  original  form 

of  the  Epitome  seems  to  have  been  a  good  deal  disturbed, 
and  some  foreign  elements  had  been  mixed  with  it.  The 
tenth  century  manuscript  into  which  it  was  copied  is  the 
famous  Codex  Venetus  A  of  the  Iliad,  no.  454  in  the 
Library  of  St  Mark  at  Venice1.  The  Epitome  (especially 
the  part  of  it  relating  to  Didymus),  as  preserved  in  this  one 
manuscript,  is  the  principal  source  of  all  that  we  know  in 
detail  concerning  the  views  of  Aristarchus.  This  manuscript 
is  also  the  only  one  which  exhibits  the  critical  signs  of  Aris- 
tarchus (§  22).  The  scholia  of  A  were  first  published  by 
Villoison  in  1788.  They  include  scholia  from  other  sources 
besides  the  Epitome.  Of  these  we  shall  speak  presently. 

The  recension  of  Aristarchus  was  never  canonised  in  its  Tlie  Aris- 
entirety  as  a  standard  text     But  his  criticism  seems  to  have  recension 
had  a  much  larger  influence  than  that  of  any  other  single  never 
authority.     It   is   probable   that   between   about    200   and  as  a°whole. 
400  A.D.  a  vulgate  (the  ancient  common  text  modified  in 
detail)  was  gradually  formed  by  a  comparison  of  his  views, 
so  far  as  they  were  known,  with  those  of  other  critics8. 

26.  The  division  of  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  into  twenty-  The  divi- 
four  books  each,  denoted  by  the  letters  of  the  alphabet,  has 
sometimes  been  ascribed  to  Aristarchus,  (who  certainly  used 
it  in  his  recension,)  sometimes  to  Aristophanes  or  to  Zeno- 
dotus8.  There  is  nothing  to  show  who  was  the  author 
of  it  All  we  know  is  that  it  seems  to  have  been  already 
firmly  established  in  the  second  half  of  the  third  century 
B.C.  It  is  older,  then,  than  Aristophanes  or  Aristarchus. 

1  The  contents  of  the  Epitome  are  thus  described  by  its  original 
author  (cp.  Ludwich  I.  p.  79)  in  a  formula  which  the  scribe  of  the 
Venetus  A  repeats  at  the  end  of  each  book  :  —  irapaKeirai  ra.  'ApiirrovlKov 
ffijfifia,  Kal  TO.  Aidv/j-ov  irepl  rijs  'Apiffrapxelov  SiopOuffcus,  rtva  St  Kal  tic 
rip  'IXioic^j  irpo(r<j)5/os  '  HpuSiavov  Kal  Xt/cdpopos  vepl  TTJS 


a  See  W.  Christ  in  the  Prolegomena  to  his  ed.  of  the  Iliad  (1884), 
p.  102. 

8  Cp.  Ludwich  II.  p.  220,  n.  195. 

J-  7 


98  HOMER.  [CH.  III. 

It  is  not  demonstrably  older  than  Zenodotus ;  but  we 
cannot  say  more.  One  thing,  at  least,  is  plain.  The 
arbitrary  and  mechanical  neatness  of  the  division  bears 
the  stamp  of  an  age  which  sought  to  arrange  its  literary 
material  in  a  way  convenient  for  study  and  reference.  This 
suits  the  view  that  the  division  originated  at  Alexandria  in 
the  third  century  B.  c. 

Writers  of  the  fifth  and  fourth  centuries  B.C.  indicate 
passages  of  Homer  merely  by  mentioning  the  persons  or 
events  prominent  in  them.  Thus,  Herodotus  (2.  1 16)  denotes 
//.  6.  289  ff.  as  '  the  part  where  Diomede  distinguishes  him- 
self (ev  Atoyu,7;'8eos  dpurnrft-g) ;  Thucydides  (i.  10)  refers  to 
the  'Catalogue'  by  lv  vewv  KaraAdyw;  Plato  (Crat.  p.  428  c) 
refers  to  //.  9.  640  f.  as  occurring  '  in  the  supplication '  (ev 
Amus);  Arist.  (Poet.  16)  refers  to  Od.  8.  521  as  lv  'AA/aVow 
d-n-oXoyw,  (a  title  known  also  to  Plato,  Rep.  6148,  and  pro- 
perly confined  to  Od.  bks.  9 — 12,)  and  to  Od.  19.  3866°.  as 
tv  TOIS  vwrrpois.  Such  descriptions  sufficed  for  their  pur- 
pose,— to  recall  a  part  of  the  poem  to  the  memory;  and, 
in  most  cases,  coincide  with  the  names  of  '  rhapsodies '  or 
cantos  into  which  the  poem  was  divided  for  recitation1. 
Some  recognised  division  of  this  kind  is  implied  in  the 
ancient  regulations  for  a  consecutive  recitation  at  festivals 
(p.  77);  and  the  record  of  it  was  preserved,  at  least  for  a 
time,  after  the  alphabetical  division  into  books  had  been 
adopted  at  Alexandria.  The  title  of  one  canto  sometimes 
covered  more  than  one  of  our  books;  thus  the  Auyn/Sous 
apwrteia  answered  to  book  5  and  (part  at  least)  of  book  6. 
More  often,  one  book  comprises  more  than  one  canto ;  as 
book  2  includes  the  'Dream'  and  the  'Catalogue.' 

27.   The  great  library  founded  at  Pergamum  in  Mysia  by 

1  Several  ancient  titles  of  rhapsodies  are  preserved  by  Aelian  Far. 
Hist.  13,  14.  See  Christ,  Proleg.,  pp.  1—7.  Distinguish,  as  of  a 
different  class,  phrases,  invented  for  the  occasion,  by  which  short  passages 
are  sometimes  indicated :  as  Thuc.  i.  9  tv  TOV  CTK^TTT/JOU  rf;  TrapaSoaet 
(  =  //.  2.  io8ff.):  Arist.  Hist.  An.  9.  32  tv  r-fi  TOV  Upiafj.ov  <-£63y  (  =  //. 
34.  3i6ff.):  Strabo  i.  17  tv  r%  irpefffielq.  (  =  11.  3.  222 f.):  Paus.  u  18.  2 
&<"Hpaj  Spicy  =(//.  15.  36  f.). 


CH.  III.]  HOMER    IN    ANTIQUITY.  99 

Eumenes  II.,  early  in  the  second  century  B.C.,  soon  became 
a  rival  to  the  older  institution  at  Alexandria;  and  a  like 
rivalry  developed  itself  between  their  schools  of  Homeric 
interpretation.  Crates,  a  native  of  Mallus  in  Cilicia,  who 
was  librarian  of  Pergamum  in  the  time  of  Aristarchus, 
published  Homeric  commentaries'.  The  broad  differences 
between  the  two  schools  turned  mainly  on  two  points. 

(1)  The  Alexandrian  school,  represented  by  Aristarchus, 
was  essentially  a  school  of  accurate  grammatical  scholarship. 
In  particular,  the  Alexandrians  aimed  at  laying  down  strict 
rules  of  declension  and  conjugation.     Now,  Crates  was  far 
from  denying  the  existence  of  ascertainable  laws  in  language : 
like  other  Stoics,  he  gave  much  attention  to  correct  idiom 
CEAAT/VUT/AO'S).     But   he   maintained  that  the  Alexandrians 
pushed  their  love  of  regularity  too  far.     While  they  insisted 
•on  the  rules  applicable  to  forms  of  words,  Crates  dwelt  on 

the  exceptions.  This  is  expressed  in  the  statement  that  'Analogy 
Aristarchus  was  the  champion  of  'analogy'  (dvaXoyta),  and  «anomaiy 
Crates  of 'anomaly'  (aVw/AaA.ia)s. 

(2)  Aristarchus,  as  we  have  seen,  did  not  neglect  the 
questions  arising  immediately  out  of  Homer's  text,  such  as 
those  of  topography  or  antiquities.     But  Crates  went  much 
further  afield.     He  conceived  that  Homeric  criticism  ought 
to  embrace  a  mass  of  problems,  philosophical,  historical, 
or  physical,  which  Homer  suggested.     He  found  in  Homer, 
not  only  allegories,  but  astronomical  and  cosmical  theories 
which  agreed  with  those  of  Stoic  writers.      In  his  view, 
Homer's  aim  was  not  merely  that  of  a  poet  (i/rv^aycDyia), 
but  pre-eminently  that  of  a  teacher  (8i8ao-/<a\t'a),  an  opinion 
which  enjoyed  popularity  in  later  times.     The  readings  of 
Crates  are  often  mentioned,  and  are  sometimes  ingenious. 
But  he  and  his  school  had  comparatively  little  influence 

1  Ludwich  (i.  p.  43)  agrees  with  Wachsmuth  (De  Cratete  Mallota, 
p.  31,  1860)  in  doubting  whether  an  edition  of  Homer  was  published 
by  Crates. 

2  Wachsmuth  De  Cratete  p.  15.     Gellius  i.  25  (where  he  refers  to 
Crates   and   Aristarchus) :    avaXoyta   est  similium  similis  declinatio... 
wufjiaXta  est  inaequalitas  declinationum  consuetudinem  sequens. 

7—2 


IOO  HOMER.  [CH.   III. 

on  the  Homeric  text.  Some  pungent  verses1  record  their 
scorn  for  the  '  verbal  scholarship '  of  Alexandria. 

)emetrius.  28.  Among  other  ancient  scholars  who  dealt  with 
Homer,  Demetrius  of  Scepsis  in  the  Troad  (arc.  190  B.C.)  de- 
serves mention,  on  account  of  the  fame  enjoyed  in  anti- 
quity by  his  labours  on  Homeric  topography.  His  TpoHKo? 
SictKooyxos,  'The  Marshalling  of  the  Trojans,'  was  a  work 
in  30  books  on  the  catalogue  of  the  Trojan  forces  in 
Iliad  2.  He  agreed  with  the  general  opinion  of  the  best 
ancient  judges  in  rejecting  the  claim  of  the  Greek  Ilium 
(Hissarlik)  to  represent  the  site  of  Homeric  Troy.  His 
work,  which  is  often  quoted  by  ancient  writers,  appears 
to  have  united  multifarious  and  exhaustive  learning  with 
a  high  degree  of  critical  acuteness. 

fostathius.  Midway  between  the  ancient  and  modern  studies  of 
Homer,  we  find  the  great  compilation  of  Eustathius,  arch- 
bishop of  Thessalonica  in  the  latter  half  of  the  i2th  cen- 
tury. It  is  entitled,  HapcK/JoXat  eh  rrjv  'Op.ypov  'IXiaSa  /cat 
'OSuo-treiav,  i.e.  'excerpts'  bearing  on  the  poems*.  The 
excerpts  are  made  from  a  very  large  number  of  earlier 
writers,  and  include  matter  of  every  kind  which  can  illustrate 
either  the  language  or  the  subject-matter  of  Homer. 

Scholia .  29.  Many  traces  of  ancient  work  on  Homer,  which  would 
otherwise  have  been  wholly  lost,  are  preserved  in  the  scholia, 
which,  especially  in  the  case  of  the  Iliad,  are  most  im- 
portant. The  scholia  in  the  Codex  Venetus  (A)  of  the 
Iliad  come  mainly  from  two  sources,  (i)  One  of  these  is 
the  Epitome  of  the  four  treatises,  described  above.  The 
scholia  from  this  source  are  the  most  valuable  of  all. 
(2)  The  other  source  appears  to  have  been  a  large  body  of 
commentary,  selected  from  various  authors,  and  compiled 

1  By  Herodicus  (ap.  Athen.  p.  111  A),  who  describes  the  Aristarchenns 
as  'buzzing  in  corners,  busy  with  monosyllables':   yuviofioppvicfs, 
Hovo<TV\\a{}oi,   olffi  fj^nt)\fv  |  TO  <r<f>lv  Kal  ff<f>uti>  ical  rb  fi.lv  7/5£  -rb  vlv. 
(Aristarchus  had  pointed  out  that  Homer  uses  only  /MI>,  not  viv.) 

2  ->rap€K^d\\fiv  meaning,  'to  make  extracts  in  the  course  of  one's 
reading.' 


CH,  III.]  HOMER    IN    ANTIQUITY.  IOI 

later  than  the  time  of  Porphyrius  (tire.  270  A.D.),  of  whose 
'  Homeric  Problems '  much  use  was  made.  In  contrast 
with  the  Epitome,  the  scholia  from  this  second  source  deal 
less  with  textual  criticism,  and  more  with  allegorising 
interpretations,  mythology,  or  criticism  of  poetical  style. 
These  scholia  are  found  not  only  in  Venetus  A,  but  also, 
with  modifications,  in  some  other  MSS.1  For  scholia  on  the 
Odyssey,  the  most  important  MS.  is  the  Harleianus,  no. 
5674  in  the  British  Museum,  of  the  thirteenth  century. 

30.  The  results  of  inquiry  into  the  ancient  study  of  Our  text 
Homer,  as  briefly  given  in  the  foregoing  pages,  have  more 
than  a  historical  interest;  more,  too,  than  a  critical  value 
in  relation  to  particular  points.  They  establish  a  general 
conclusion  of  the  highest  importance  in  regard  to  the 
whole  existing  text  of  Homer*.  It  is  as  follows. 

1  These  are:    B  =  Codex   Venetus   no.  453    (nth,  or  perh.    roth, 
cent.):  V=cod.  Victorianus  no.  16  in  the  Munich  Library  (i6th  cent.?), 
which  has  only  scholia,  without  text :    the  cod.  Townleianus  in  the 
British  Museum,  which  has  been  regarded  as  the  source  of  V :   and 
L= codex  Lipsiensis.     See  Ludwich  I.  pp.  83  ff.     The  shorter  scholia 
variously  known  as  the    'brevia,'   'vulgata,'    'minora,'   or   'Didymi,' 
(found  in  many  MSS.,  and  first  published  in  1517,)  are  almost  worth- 
less. 

2  The  most  important  MSS.  of  the  Iliad  are  the  following,     (i) 
A=codex  Venetus  A,  in  Library  of  St  Mark,  no.  454  (loth  cent.),  a 
parchment  folio  of  327  leaves.     Some  of  the  ancient  leaves  (19  in  all) 
have  been  lost  in  different  places,  and  replaced  by  a  late  hand.     Its 
unique    interest    consists    in    the  scholia,   and   the    critical  signs  of 
Aristarchus  (as  described  above).     Its  text  of  the  Iliad  differs  from  that 
of  all  our  other  MSS.  in  being  more  strongly  influenced  by  the  readings 
of  Aristarchus.     (2)  B:  see  last  note.     (3)  C  =  Laurentianus  32.  5,  in 
the    Laurentian    Library    at    Florence    (loth    or    nth    cent.).      (4) 
I)  — Laurent.  32.  15  (nth  cent.):  perhaps  the  best  after  A.     (5)  The 
Townleianus:  see  last  note. — Some  fragments  exist,  older  than  A,  but 
of  no  critical  importance;  viz.:  (i)  three  papyrus  fragments,  found  in 
Egypt,  two  of  which  are  prob.  of  the  ist  century  B.C.     (2)  800  lines 
from   different  parts  of  the  Iliad,  in   a  6th   cent.   MS.    (the   Codex 
Ambrosianus),    edited    at    Milan    by  Mai  in   1819.      (3)   A   Syrian 
palimpsest  (in  the  Brit.  Museum)  of  the  6th  or  jth  cent.,  containing 
3873   lines  from   books   12 — 16,   and    18—24.     For  the  text  of  the 


IO2 


HOMER.  [CH.  III. 


We  saw  that  the  editions  used  by  Aristarchus  re- 
presented an  older  common  text,  or  vulgate,  and  that  one 
of  these  editions  was  that  of  Antimachus  (fire.  410  B.C.),  in 
which  the  variations  appear  to  have  been  only  of  the  same 
small  kind  as  in  the  rest.  Hence  there  is  the  strongest 
reason  for  believing  that  the  common  text  of  200  B.  c. 
went  back  at  least  to  the  fifth  century  B.  c.  But  Aristarchus 
caused  no  breach  in  the  transmission  of  that  common  text 
He  made  no  wild  conjectures  or  violent  dislocations.  He 
handed  on  what  he  had  received,  with  such  help  towards 
exhibiting  it  in  a  purer  form  as  careful  collation  and  study 
could  give;  and  so,  with  comparatively  slight  modifications, 
it  descended  to  the  age  from  which  our  MSS.  date.  Our 
common  text,  then,  we  may  reasonably  believe,  is  funda- 
mentally the  same  as  that  which  was  known  to  Aristarchus ; 
and  therefore,  in  all  probability,  it  rests  on  the  same  basis 
as  the  text  which  was  read  by  Plato  and  Thucydides. 

Odyssey,  the  best  MSS.  are  the  Harleianus  (see  above  in  text) ;  and 
the  Augustanus  (Monacensis),  no.  519  B  in  the  Munich  Library,  of  the 
I3th  cent,  according  to  the  catalogue,  but  more  probably  of  the  i4th  or 
i5th.  See  La  Roche,  Homer.  Textkritik,  p.  481. 


CHAPTER   IV. 
THE  HOMERIC  QUESTION. 

i.  FROM  an  early  time  down  to  the  fourth  century  B.C. 
other  poems  besides  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  were  cur- 
rently ascribed  to  Homer  (p.  85).  The  Alexandrian  criticism 
of  the  third  century  B.C.  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that 
the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  were  his  only  genuine  works. 
At  that  point  the  ancient  scrutiny  of  Homeric  authorship 
may  be  said  to  have  stopped.  A  few  doubters  went 
further ;  but  they  were  almost  unheeded. 

The  existence  of  ancient  xtt)Pt'£°l'Tcs  °r  '  Separaters ' —  The 
who  assigned  the  Iliad  to  Homer,  and  the  Odyssey  to  Ch°r,iz" 
another  author — is  known  chiefly  from  the  allusions  to  their 
opinion  in  the  scholia  of  the  Codex  Venetus.  The  scholium 
on  Iliad  12.  45  mentions  a  reading  given  by  Aristarchus 
iv  TW  Trpos  TO  Eevwi'os  TrapaSo^oi',  in  his  '  Treatise  against  the 
Paradox  of  Xenon.'  The  other  name  mentioned  in  this 
connection  is  that  of  Hellanicus,  a  grammarian  who  was 
the  elder  contemporary  of  Aristarchus.  It  might  be  inferred 
from  the  existence  of  such  a  phrase  as  oi  xtopi&vrts  that 
Xenon  and  Hellanicus  were  merely  the  most  prominent 
members  of  a  literary  sect  which  shared  their  view '.  But 
we  know  nothing  of  their  argument,  except  that  it  must 
have  turned  partly  on  style.  They  produced  no  effect 
on  the  ancient  world.  Seneca  refers  to  the  question 
in  a  tone  which  shows  that  it  was  well  known  in  the  first 

1  See  Bernhardy,  Gk.  Lit.  II.  114. 


104 


HOMER.  [CH.  IV. 


century  A.D.,  but  that  he  regarded  it  as  an  unprofitable 
subtlety1.  Suidas  (arc.  noo  A.  D.)  is  still  able  to  say  that 
the  Iliad  and  Odyssey  are  undisputed2  works  of  Homer. 
Ancient  criticism  was  not,  indeed,  a  stranger  to  the  idea  of 
'many  Homers'8.  But  that  phrase  had  nothing  to  do  with 
any  modern  theory  of  a  composite  authorship  for  the  Iliad 
and  the  Odyssey.  The  'many  Homers'  were  merely  poets  who 
sought  to  associate  their  independent  work  with  an  illustrious 
name. 

The  2.     To   the   modern  mind  the  Iliad  and   the  Odyssey 

modem  present  two  main  problems,  (i)  The  first  is  the  fact 
of  their  existence.  Greek  literature  opens  with  these 
finished  masterpieces.  We  are  certain  that  ruder  work 
had  gone  before,  but  we  know  nothing  of  it.  This 
phenomenon  was  less  striking  to  the  old  Greeks  than  it  is 
to  us,  since  they  knew  no  literature  but  their  own.  It  is 
fully  appreciated  only  when  a  comparison  with  other  early 
literatures  shows  it  to  be  unparalleled. 

(2)  The  second  problem  depends  on  the  inner 
characteristics  of  the  poems.  Each  of  them  forms  an 
organic  and  artistic  whole.  Yet  each  contains  some  parts 
which  appear  to  disturb  the  plan,  or  to  betray  inferior 
workmanship.  How  can  we  account  at  once  for  the 
general  unity  and  for  the  particular  discrepancies  ? 

These  two  problems — the  external  and  the  internal — are 
the  basis  of  'the  Homeric  question'4.  The  modern 

1  Dt  Brevitate  Vitae  c.  13  (eiusdemne  auctoris  essent  llias  et 
Odyssea). 

3  ai'a.fJL<j>l\eKTa  (s.  v.  "Ofj.ripos) :  justly  noticed  by  Geddes  as  a  proof 
that  the  Chorizontes  'were  virtually  silenced,  and  Antiquity  refused  to 
listen  to  them,'  Problem  of  the  Homeric  Poems,  p.  6. 

3  "Qfjypoi  yap  TroXXol  yeyovavi  ftyXy  TOV  ird\ai  rr\v  K\rj<ri.v  Xay^Scb'oi'Tes, 
Proclus  (commentator  on  Hesiod),   ap.  Gaisford  Poet.   Min.    Gr.  iii. 
scholia,  p.  6,  quoted  by  Geddes  {Problem  of  the  Homeric  Poems  p.  7), 
who  adds  Eustathius  4,  wj  5£  Kal  TroXXoi  "0/j.i)pot.      Proclus  was  arguing 
that  Hesiod's  competitor  in  the  traditional '  contest'  was  not  the  Homer, 
but  a  Phocian  Homer  of  later  date. 

4  Cp.  Volkmann,  Geschichte  und  Kritik  der  Wolfschen  Prolegomena 
zu  Homer,  c.  i. 


CH.  IV.]  THE    HOMERIC   QUESTION.  105 

discussion  of  the  Homeric  question,  in  a  critical  sense, 
began  with  Wolf's  Prolegomena  (1795). 

3.  Before  Wolf,  we  meet,  indeed,  with  expressions  of  Surmises 
opinion   by   other   scholars   which   might   be  regarded   as 
partly  anticipating  his  view.     But  these,  in  so  far  as  they 

were  not  mere  conjecture,  were  based  on  the  ancient 
tradition  that  the  poems  of  Homer  had  been  scattered 
until  Peisistratus  caused  them  to  be  collected.  A  famous 
passage  in  Josephus  (arc.  90  A.D.)  was  also  suggestive. 
'The  present  use  of  alphabetical  writing,'  Josephus  says, 
'  cannot  have  been  known  to  the  Greeks  of  the  Trojan  war. 
The  Greeks  have  no  literature  older  than  Homer;  and 
Homer  lived  after  the  war.  And  they  say  (<f>ao-(v)  that 
even  Homer  did  not  leave  his  poetry  in  writing,  but  that  it 
was  transmitted  by  metnory  (8taju.vr//xoi'euo/teVT/v),  and  after- 
wards put  together  from  the  separate  songs  (e/c  TWV  da-fj-driav 
va-repov  o-vvTeOrjvai) :  hence  the  number  of  discrepancies  which 
it  presents^. 

Here,  Josephus  does  not  merely  reproduce  the  tradition 
of  a  collection  by  Peisistratus :  he  states  that,  in  the  received 
belief  of  the  Greeks,  Homer  did  not  use  writing ;  that  the 
poems  had  been  transmitted  only  by  memory ;  and  that  this 
fact  accounted  for  their  inconsistencies. 

4.  It  was  by  such  hints  that  the  moderns  before  Wolf 
were  guided.     Isaac   Casaubon  (1559-1614),  referring  in  a 
note  on  Diogenes  Laertius  (9.  12)  to  the  passage  just  quoted 
from  Josephus,  remarked  that  we  could  scarcely  hope  for  a 
sound  text  of  Homer,  no  matter  how  old  our  MSS.  might 
be.     The  Dutch  scholar  Jacob  Perizonius  in  his  Animad- 
versiones  Historicae  (1684)  accepted  the  account  given  by 
Josephus,  and  brought  it  into  connection  with  other  ancient 
notices. 

Bentley,  in  his  '  Remarks '  on  the  '  Discourse  of  Free- 
Thinking'  by  Anthony  Collins  (1713),  supposes  that  a  poet 

1  Josephus  Kara  ' Airluvos  i.  2  p.  175  (Bekk.).  He  is  maintaining 
that  no  argument  against  the  antiquity  of  the  Jews  can  be  drawn  from 
the  silence  of  Greek  writers. 


106  HOMER.  [OH.  iv. 

named  Homer  lived  about  1050  B.C.,  and  'wrote'  both 
the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey.  Each  consisted  of  several 
short  lays,  which  Homer  recited  separately.  These  lays  cir- 
culated merely  as  detached  pieces,  until  they  were  collected 
in  the  time  of  Peisistratus  (arc.  550  B.C.),  into  our  two  epics'. 
5.  Giambattista  Vico,  of  Naples  (born  1668),  touched  on 
the  origin  of  the  Homeric  poems  in  some  notes  (1722)  with 
which  he  supplemented  his  treatise  on  'Universal  Law'. 
Here  his  point  was  much  the  same  as  Bentley's  in  answer 
to  Collins, — viz.,  that  the  Homeric  poetry  is  not  a  conscious 
effort  of  profound  philosophy,  but  the  mirror  of  a  simple 
age.  In  the  second  edition  of  his  Scienza  Nuova  (1730) 
he  went  further.  He  there  maintains  that  '  Homer '  is  a 
collective  name  for  the  work  of  many  successive  poets. 
These,  in  the  course  of  many  generations,  gradually 
produced  the  poems  which  the  Peisistratidae  first  collected 
into  our  Iliad  and  Odyssey.  But,  said  Vico,  though  there 
were  many  Homers,  we  may  say  that  there  were  pre- 
eminently two — the  Homer  of  the  Iliad,  who  belonged  to 
North-east  Greece  (i.e.  Thessaly),  and  the  Homer  of  the 
Odyssey,  who  came  later,  and  belonged  to  South-west 
Greece  (i.e.  the  Western  Peloponnesus  and  adjacent 
islands).  Vico  did  not  bring  critical  proofs  of  his  proposi- 
tions. He  had  no  influence  on  Wolf  or  the  Wolfians.  Yet 
his  theory  must  at  least  be  regarded  as  a  remarkable 
example  of  divining  instinct2. 

1  Cp.  'Bentley,'  in  'English  Men  of  Letters,"  pp.  146  ff.     Collins 
had   maintained   that   the  Iliad  was    'the    epitome    of   all  arts   and 
sciences,'  and  that  Homer  'designed  his  poem  for  eternity,  to  please 
and  instruct  mankind.'     Bentley  replies,  'Take  my  word  for  it,  poor 
Homer,    in    those    circumstances    and    early   times,   had   never   such 
aspiring  thoughts.    He  wrote  a  sequel  of  songs  and  rhapsodies ,  to  be  sung 
by  himself  for  small  earnings  and  good  cheer,  at  festivals  and  other  days 
of  merriment;  the  Ilias  he  made  for  the  men,  and  the  Odysse'is  for  the 
other  sex'.    The  phrase,  '«  sequel?  is  ambiguous:   as  he  goes  on  to 
say,  '  These  loose  songs  were  not  collected  together  in  the  form  of  an 
epic  poem  till  Pisistratus'  time,  above  500  years  after,'  he  perhaps 
did  not  mean,  'a  connected  series.' 

2  Professor  Flint,  ina  monograph  on  Vico  (1884),  pp.  173 — 178,  gives 


CH.  IV.]  THE   HOMERIC   QUESTION.  107 

But   the   work  which   had   most  effect,  before  the  ap-  Robert 
pearance    of   the   Prolegomena,   was    undoubtedly    Robert Wood- 
Wood's  'Essay  on  the  Original  Genius  of  Homer'  (1769)'. 
In  one  chapter  he  discussed  the  question  whether  the  art 
of  writing  was  known  to  Homer,  and  answered  it  in  the 
negative.     This  view  had  never  before  been  enforced  by 
critical  argument.     F.  A.  Wolf  (born  in  1759)  read  Wood's 
essay  in  his  student-days  at  Gottingen,  and  refers  to  it  with 
some  praise  in  the  Prolegomena9.     Wood's  doctrine  about 
writing  became,  in  fact,  the  very  keystone  of  Wolf's  theory. 

6.     Wolfs  'Prolegomena' — a   small  octavo  volume  of  Wolf's 
280  pages — appeared  at  Halle  in  1795,  wi^1  a  dedication  to 
David  Ruhnken,  as  'chief  of  critics'8.     After  some  general 

a  full  and  clear  account  of  his  Homeric  theory.  Without  going  so  far 
as  to  hold  that  Vico's  'discovery  of  the  true  Homer'  (as  he  himself 
called  it)  was  'a  complete  anticipation  of  the  so-called  Wolfian  theory' 
(p.  176),  I  agree  in  thinking  that  adequate  justice  has  scarcely  been  done 
to  Vico.  Wolf,  some  time  after  he  had  published  the  Prolegomena,  had 
his  attention  drawn  to  Vico  by  Melchior  Cesarotti  (translator  of  Homer 
and  Ossian).  The  review  of  Vico  which  he  wrote  in  the  Museum 
der  Alttrthumswissenschaft  I.  1807,  pp.  555  ff.,  is  contained  in  his  Kleine 
Schriften  II.  pp.  157  ff. 

1  Heyne,  who  was  the^i  by  general  consent  the  foremost  'humanist* 
of  Germany,  reviewed  Wood's  Essay  in  enthusiastic  terms  (1770): 
'  We  have  to  this  day  seen  no  one  who  has  penetrated  so  deeply  into 
Homer's  spirit.'  The  first  German  translation  appeared  in  1773,  the 
second  (revised)  in  1778, — both  by  Prof.  Michaelis  of  Gottingen,  where 
F.  A.  Wolf  finished  his  studies  in  1779.  Wolf  (Proleg.  xii)  quotes  the 
2nd  English  edit,  of  1775. 

8  c.  xii.,  where,  speaking  of  Wood's  '  celebratissimus  liber,'  he 
remarks  (in  a  foot-note),  '  plura  sunt  scite  et  egregie  animadversa,  nisi 
quod  subtilitas  fere  deest,  sine  qua  historica  disputatio  persuadet,  non 
(idem  facit. 

*  The  volume  of  'Prolegomena'  is  called  'I.',  and  we  read  'Pars 
Frima'  at  p.  xxiv  :  but  the  second  part,  which  was  to  have  dealt  with 
the  principles  of  Homeric  textual  criticism,  was  never  published.  It  wns 
not  Wolfs  first  contribution  to  Homeric  studies,  though  he  was  only 
36  when  it  appeared.  In  an  essay  addressed  to  Heyne  (1779)  he  had 
indicated  his  views  as  to  the  age  of  writing  in  Greece,  which  can  be 
traced  also  in  his  introductions  to  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey,  published  in 
1784.  This  was  before  the  publication  of  the  Codex  Venetus  by 


I08  HOMER.  [CH.  IV. 

remarks  on  the  critical  office  in  regard  to  Homer's  text,  Wolf 
proceeds  to  discuss  the  history  of  the  poems  from  about  950 
B.  c. — which  he  takes  as  the  epoch  of  matured  Ionian  poetry 
—down  to  the  time  of  Peisistratus  (about  550  B.  c.).  The 
four  main  points  which  he  seeks  to  prove  are  the  following, 
(i)  The  Homeric  poems  were  composed  without  the 
aid  of  writing,  which  in  950  B.C.  was  either  wholly 
unknown  to  the  Greeks,  or  not  yet  employed  by  them 
for  literary  purposes1.  The  poems  were  handed  down 
by  oral  recitation,  and  in  the  course  of  that  process  suf- 
fered many  alterations,  deliberate  or  accidental,  by  the 
rhapsodes.  (2)  After  the  poems  had  been  written  down 
fire.  550  B.  c.,  they  suffered  still  further  changes.  These 
were  deliberately  made  by  'revisers'  (Stao-Keuao-rat),  or  by 
learned  critics  who  aimed  at  polishing  the  work,  and  bring- 
ing it  into  harmony  with  certain  forms  of  idiom  or  canons 
of  art.  (3)  The  Iliad  has  artistic  unity ;  so,  in  a  still  higher 
degree,  has  the  Odyssey3.  But  this  unity  is  not  mainly  due 

Villoison  (1788).  Wolf  greatly  overrated  the  difference  between  the 
ancient  copies  which  the  scholia  of  Venetus  A  disclosed ;  and  reviewing 
Villoison's  edition  in  1791,  he  spoke  of  it  as  proving  that  Homer 
had  long  been  transmitted  by  memory  alone.  ^ 

1  He  insists  that  poems  on  such  a  scale  as  our  Iliad  and  Odyssey 
could  not  have  been  composed  without  writing.  Suppose  it  done, 
however,  the  composer  would  have  had  no  public,  since  he  would  have 
had  no  readers  : — '  The  poems  would  have  resembled  a  huge  ship,  built,  in 
some  inland  spot,  and  in  days  before  naval  science,  by  a  man  who  had 
neither  engines  and  rollers  for  launching  it,  nor  even  a  sea  on  which  to 
try  his  craft?  (Proleg.  c.  xxv.) 

a  Thus  he  says  (Proleg.  c.  xxxi)  that  the  'carmina'  which  compose 
the  Iliad  and  Odyssey,  '  though  separated  by  the  distance  of  one  or  two 
centuries '  [indicating  that  Wolf  would  have  placed  the  latest  rhapsodies 
about  750 — 700  B.C.],  '  deceive  us  by  a  general  uniformity  and  resem- 
blance of  character.  All  the  books  have  the  same  tone,  the  same 
moral  complexion,  the  same  stamp  of  language  and  of  rhythm.' — And  so 
(Proleg.  c.  xxvii)  he  says  that,  in  the  Odyssey  especially,  the  '  admirabilis 
summaetcompagespro  praeclarissimo  monumento  Graeci  ingenii  habenda 
est,'  but  adds  (c.  xxviii)  that  this  consummate  piecing  together  is  just 
what  we  should  not  expect  from  an  early  poet  who  merely  recited 
single  rhapsodies  (singulas  tantum  rhapsodias  decantantem). 


CH.  IV.]  THE   HOMERIC   QUESTION.  109 

to  the  original  poems;  rather  it  has  been  superinduced  by 
their  artificial  treatment  in  a  later  age.  (4)  The  original 
poems,  from  which  our  Iliad  and  our  Odyssey  have  been 
put  together,  were  not  all  by  the  same  author. 

7.  But  Wolf  was  far  from  denying  a  personal  Homer.  Wolf  re- 
He  supposes  that  a  poet  of  commanding  genius, — whom  cognised 
he  often  calls  Homer, — 'began  the  weaving  of  the  web,'  sonal 
and  '  carried  it    down   to   a   certain    point/      Nay  more :  Homer- 
this  Homer  wove  the  greater  part  of  the  songs  which  were 
afterwards  united  in  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey.      This  is 

said  in  the  Prolegomena*.  But  it  is  said  still  more  em- 
phatically in  the  Preface  to  his  edition  of  the  Iliad, 
published  at  nearly  the  same  time*.  '//  is  certain  that, 
alike  in  the  Iliad  and  in  the  Odyssey,  the  web  was  begun, 
and  the  threads  were  carried  to  a  certain  point,  by  the  poet 
who  had  first  taken  up  the  theme... Perhaps  it  will  never 
be  possible  to  show,  even  with  probability,  the  precise  points 
at  which  new  filaments  or  dependencies  of  the  texture  begin : 
but  this,  at  least,  if  I  mistake  not,  will  admit  of  proof- — that 
we  must  assign  to  Homer  only  the  greater  part  of  the  songs, 
and  the  remainder  to  the  Homeridae,  who  were  following  out 
the  lines  traced  by  him' 

8.  Nothing  in  this  passage  is  more  striking  than  Wolfs 
prophetic  sense  that  it  would  never  be  possible  to  show 
exactly  where  different  hands  in  the  poems  begin  and  end. 
When  Wolf  conceded  'the  greater  part'  of  the  poems  to  one 

1  Proleg.  c.  xxviii  ad  fin.  Atque  haec  ratio  eo  probabilior  fiet,  si 
ab  ipso  primo  auctore  filum  fabulae  iam  aliquatenus  deductum  esse 
apparebit. — Ib.  c.  xxxi.  At  nonne  omnibus  erit  manifestum... tolas 
rhapsodias  inesse  quae  Homeri  non  sunt,  id  est  eius,  a  quo  maior 
pars  et  priorum  rhapsodiarum  series  deducta  est? 

3  Pratfat.  p.  xxviii.  Quoniam  certum  est,  tarn  in  Iliade  quam  in 
Odyssea  orsam  telam  et  deducta  aliquatenus  fila  esse  a  vate  qui 
princeps  ad  canendum  accesserat...forsitan  ne  probabiliter  quidem 
demonstrari  poterit,  a  quibus  locis  potissimum  nova  subtemina  et  limbi 
procedant:  at  id  tamen,  ni  fallor,  poterit  effici,  ut  liquido  appareat 
Homero  nihil  praeter  maiorem  partem  carminum  tribuendam  esse, 
reliqua  Homeridis,  praescripta  lineamenta  persequentibus. 


110  HOMER.  [CH.  IV. 

great  poet,  he  was  moved  by  his  feeling  for  their  internal 
characteristics — for  the  splendid  genius,  and  the  general 
unity.  The  whole  argument  for  his  theory,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  essentially  external.  It  was  based  on  certain 
historical  considerations  as  to  early  Greek  civilisation  and 
the  development  of  poetical  art.  He  has  himself  told  us, 
in  memorable  words,  how  he  felt  on  turning  from  his  own 
theory  to  a  renewed  perusal  of  the  poems.  As  he  steeps 
himself  in  that  stream  of  epic  story  which  glides  like  a 
clear  river,  his  own  arguments  vanish  from  his  mind; 
the  pervading  harmony  and  consistency  of  the  poems 
assert  themselves  with  irresistible  power ;  and  he  is  angry 
with  the  scepticism  which  has  robbed  him  of  belief  in  one 
Homer1. 

9.  In  Wolfs  theory,  the  fundamental  proposition  is  the 
denial  that  a  literary  use  of  writing  was  possible  for  Greeks 
about  950  B.  c.  This  proposition  is,  however,  by  no  means 
so  certain  as  Wolf  held  it  to  be. 

The  following  points  may  be  noticed,  (i)  It  is  true 
that  the  extant  evidence  from  inscriptions  does  not  go 
above  the  ?th  century  B.  c.  But  it  cannot  be  assumed  that 
the  monumental  use  of  writing  preceded  its  application  to 
ordinary  affairs.  The  opposite  supposition  would  be  more 
reasonable.  And  if  the  Greek  writing  on  the  earliest  extant 
marbles  is  clumsy,  this  does  not  necessarily  prove  that  the 
Greeks  were  then  unfamiliar  with  the  art  of  writing,  but 
only  that  they  had  not  yet  acquired  facility  in  carving 
characters  on  stone2.  Long  before  that  time,  they  may 

1  Preface  to  the  Iliad,  p.xxii:  quoties...penitus  immergor  in  ilium  veluti 
prono  et  liquido  alveo  decurrentem  tenorem  actionum  et  narrationum  : 
•quoties   animadverto  ac  reputo  mecum  quam  in  universum  aestimanti 
unus  his  carminibus  insit  color... vix  mihi  quisquam  irasci  et  succensere 
gravius  poterit,  quam  ipse  facio  mihi. 

2  Mr  Hicks,  in  his  excellent  Manual  of  Greek  Historical  Inscrip- 
tions, observes  (p.  i) :  '  Certainly  the  cramped  and  awkward  characters 
of  the  earliest  extant  marbles  prove  that  writing  must  have  been  an 
unfamiliar  art  in  Greece  as  late  as  the  7th  century  B.C.*     But,    not 
to  mention  the  earliest  '  Cyclic '  poems,  it  is  certain  that  writing  was 


CH.  IV.]  THE    HOMERIC   QUESTION.  Ill 

have  attained  to  ease  in  writing  on  softer  and  more  perish- 
able materials,  such  as  leaves,  prepared  skins1,  wood,  or 
wax. 

(2)  Commercial  intercourse  between  the  Greeks  and 
the   Phoenicians,  from  whom  the   Greeks   obtained   their 
alphabet,  must  have  been  frequent  from  about  noo  B.  c.,  or 
earlier  still.     The  Phoenicians,  as  Josephus  testifies,  had 
from  the  earliest  age  applied  the  art  of  writing,  not  only  'to 
the  recording  of  their  public  acts,'  but  also  'to  the  business 
of  daily  life'  (ets  re  ras  Trepl  TOV  ftiov  oiKOVo/Aias  KOI  TT/DOS  TTJV 
T(OV  Koivtov   epywv   TrapaSocriv) *.     It  would  be  strange  if  a 
people  so  quick-witted  as  the  Greeks,  while  advancing  in 
other  parts  of  civilisation,  had  delayed  to  follow  this  ex- 
ample till  so  comparatively  late  a  time  in  their  development 
as  the  7th  century  B.  c. 

(3)  We  know,  too,  that  long  epic  poems  (some  of  those 
known  as  the  'Cyclic'),  which  never  enjoyed  the  same  kind 
of  popularity  as  'Homer,'  came  down  from  the  8th  century 
B.  c. :   and  it  is  most  improbable  that  these  relatively  ob- 
scure works  should   have  been  preserved  without  the  aid 
of  writing.    Such  were  the  Cypria  ascribed  to  Stasinus,  and 
the  Aethiopis  of  Arctinus.    It  is  certain  that  writing  was  used 
by  Archilochus  and  other  poets  of  the  early  yth  century. 
Wolf  himself,  indeed,  admits  the  occasional  use  of  writing 
by  poets  as  early  as  776  B.  c.8 

already  used  by  poets  who  lived  in  the  early  part  of  that  century,— as 
we  shall  see. 

1  Humboldt  (Atlas  p.  66)  remarks  that  the  old  Mexican '  manuscripts' 
are  written  on  deer-skin,  cotton  cloth,  or  paper  made  from  the  maguy 
plant,  and  suggests  that,  among  the  Greeks  also,  the  use  of  prepared 
skins  may  have  preceded  that  of  paper.  We  know  that  it  preceded  the 
use  of  papyrus.  Wolfs  conjecture  that  the  use  of  such  skins  (dupfftpai.) 
for  writing  came  into  Greek  from  the  East  only  fire.  776  B.C.  ('sub 
epochum  Olympiadum,'  Proleg.  p.  bcii)  lacks  proof,  and  is  against  all 
probability. 

8  Kara' A.iriwvos  I.  6. 

3  Wolf  is  a  thoroughly  candid  inquirer.  In  this  case,  while 
admitting  that  Arctinus  and  others  of  the  early  8th  century  -wrote  their 
poems,  he  seeks  to  distinguish  such  instances  from  an  admission  '  de 


112  HOMER.  [CH.   IV. 

(4)  The  balance  of  probabilities  seems  to  be  in  favour 
of  the  view  that  the  'baneful   tokens'   (<j^^ara  Xvypd)   of 
Iliad  6.  1 68  denote  some  kind  of  alphabetical  or  syllabic 
writing1.    But  even  if  we  granted  that  no  allusion  to  writing 
occurs  in  the  Iliad  or  Odyssey,  no  valid  argument  could  be 
drawn  from  a  silence  which,  in  heroic  poetry  meant  for 
recitation,  may  have  been  conventional. 

(5)  Herodotus,  speaking  of  a  Greek  inscription  which 
he  saw  at  Thebes,  supposes  it  to  date  from  many  centuries 
before  his  own  time2.     A  similar  belief  as  to  the  high  anti- 
quity of  writing  among  the  Greeks  sometimes  seems  to  be 
implied  in  the  Greek  literature  of  the  5th  and  4th  centuries 

B.C.3 

(6)  Recent  researches  have  invalidated  the  argument 

universa  Graetia  et  paullo  tritiore  usu  artis  institutoque  conscribendorum 
librorum*  (Proleg.  p.  Ixx).  But  (i)  why  is  the  line  to  be  drawn 
precisely  at  776  or  800  B.C.  ?  And  (2),  supposing  an  earlier  though  not 
general  use,  why  should  not  '  Homer '  have  been  one  of  the  few  who 
used  writing? 

1  iropev  5'  o  ye  ff'rjfMTa  \vypd,  \  ypd\f/as  iv  irivaKi.  irrvKTif  6vfJ,o<p0opa. 
TroXXei,  |  5e?£cu  5'  ijixayeiv  $  irevdepq.    On  the  tenth  day  the  king  of 
Lycia  yree  (TTJ/M  IBto-Qai  (176),  and  'when  he  had  received  the  <rrj/jia. 
KaKbv '  (178),  set  about  slaying  Bellerophon.     Now,  as  Kreuser  long  ago 
pointed  out  (Vorfragen  uber  ffomeros,  p.  202,  1828),  Trrv/cry  implies  that 
the  ffypaTa   (or  <rrj/M)   could   have   been  understood  by   Bellerophon 
himself;    while   iro\\d  suggests  words    rather    than    picture-writing. 
Ulrici  (Geschichte  der  Hellenischen  Dichtkunst  I.  226)  argued  that  5e?|ot 
is  inapplicable  to  a  letter:  but  why?     As  Thirlwall  says  (Hist.   Gr. 
I.  502  ed.  1855)  it  could  mean,  '•produce''  (or  better,  perhaps,  'present'). 
Mr   Monro  (note   on  //.   6.   168,  ed.  1884)   inclines,  with    Mr   Isaac 
Taylor  (Alphabet  II.  117),  to  the  view  in  the  text. 

2  Her.    5.  59  TO.VTO.  •tjXiKlrjv  efy  ac  Kara  Adtbf  rbv  Aaj38a,Kov   (i.e. 
considerably  earlier  than  the  Trojan  war,  according  to  the  mythical: 
chronology).     It  is  obviously  immaterial  what  the  age  of  the  ^-irlypafMna 
really  was.    The  point  is  that  Herodotus  felt  no  difficulty  about  his 
guess,  but  makes  it  in  a  matter-of-course  way. 

3  Thus  Eur.  Hipp.  451  makes  the  Nurse  say  that  the  loves  of  the 
gods  are  known  to  all  who  have  ypa$ds  rwv  ird^airfpuv — plainly  mean- 
ing (I  think)  writings,  not  paintings.     So  in  7.   A.  35  Agamemnon 
writes  a  letter.    But  this  topic  of  the  indirect  literary  evidence  is  so- 
largely  a  question  of  tone  and  particular  context  that  space  excludes  it 
here. 


CH.  IV.  |  THE    HOMERIC    QUESTION.  113 

that  the  poems  must  have  been  made  long  before  they  were 
written  because  they  often  imply  a  sound  (the  'digamma') 
which  is  not  known  to  have  been  represented  by  a  letter  in 
any  ancient  MS.  of  Homer1. 

(7)  The  idea,  'a  literary  use  of  writing,'  needs  definition. 
If  it  is  taken  to  mean,  'the  wide  circulation  of  writings  by 
numerous  copies,  for  a  reading  public,'  certainly  nothing  of 
the  kind  seems  to  have  existed  before  the  latter  part  of 
the  5th  century  B.  c.  But  suppose  that  a  man  had  made 
a  number  of  verses  in  his  head,  and  was  afraid  of  forgetting 
them.  If  he  could  use  'the  Phoenician  signs'  well  enough 
to  keep  his  accounts  (for  instance),  or  other  memoranda, 
why  should  he  not  write  down  his  verses?  That,  in  fact,  is 
what  Wolf  allows  that  some  men  did  as  early  at  least  as 
776  B.  c  The  verses  might  never  be  read  by  anybody 
except  himself,  or  those  to  whom  he  privately  bequeathed 
them :  but  his  end  would  have  been  gained. 

10.     Hence,  with  regard  to  the  Wolfian  theory,  we  have  Sum- 
to  discriminate  between  three  things,  which  rest  on  different  m 
levels  of  probability, — memorial  composition,  oral  publica- 
tion, and  oral  transmission. 

(a)  As  to  memorial  composition,  it  would  be  rash  to 
deny  that  an  exceptionally  gifted  man  could  have  composed 
both  our  Iliad  and  our  Odyssey  without  the  aid  of  writing. 
Similar  feats  of  memory  are  alleged*,  (b)  As  to  oral  publi- 
cation, it  is  certain  that  the  Homeric  poems  were  for  centuries 
known  to  Greece  at  large  mainly  through  the  recitation  of 
detached  parts.  (c)  But  a  serious  difficulty  is  raised  by  the 
theory  of  an  exclusively  oral  transmission.  The  difficulty 
does  not  primarily  concern  the  capacity  of  the  human 

1  See  below,  §  39. 

*  The  German  poem  Parzival,  a  romantic  epic  of  more  than  24,000 
verses,  was  composed  in  the  1 3th  century  by  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach, 
a  poor  knight,  who  confesses  that  he  could  neither  read  nor  write. 
Lachmann  appeals  to  this  instance.  But,  before  applying  it  to  the 
Homeric  question,  it  would  be  pertinent  to  know  whether  Eschenbach 
commanded  the  aid  of  an  amanuensis. 

J.  8 


114  HOMER.  |CH.  IV. 

memory.  The  true  difficulty  is  that  an  approximately  ac- 
curate tradition,  through  centuries,  of  such  vast  works, 
without  help  from  writing,  implies  an  organisation  of  which 
there  is  no  trace.  The  nearest  analogies  which  can  be 
produced  (as  from  India)  presuppose  a  religious  or  sacer- 
dotal basis.  We  have  to  conceive  of  Homeric  priesthoods 
or  colleges,  in  which,  from  generation  to  generation,  lives 
were  concentrated  on  this  task.  But  such  an  idea  is  wholly 
foreign  to  the  free  spirit  in  which  Hellenic  life  and  art  were 
developed;  nor  does  it  consist  with  what  we  know  of  the 
wandering  rhapsodes. 

The  general  conclusion,  then,  is  as  follows.  It  cannot 
be  proved  that  the  Homeric  poems  were  not  committed  to 
writing  either  when  originally  composed,  or  soon  afterwards. 
For  centuries  they  were  known  to  the  Greek  world  at  large 
chiefly  through  the  mouths  of  rhapsodes.  But  that  fact 
is  not  inconsistent  with  the  supposition  that  the  rhapsodes 
possessed  written  copies.  On  the  other  hand,  a  purely  oral 
transmission  is  hardly  conceivable. 

The  I  x-    Next  to  the  argument  from  writing,  Wolfs  mainstay 

st°ry        was  the  story  that  the  scattered  poems  of   'Homer'  had 

Peisis-      been  first  collected  and  written  down  at  Athens  in  the  time 

tratus.      of  Peisistratus.     The  story  is  both  doubtful  and  vague.     It 

occurs  in  no  ancient  writer  before  Cicero,  and  in  no  Greek 

writer  before  Pausanias1.     According  to  another  tradition, 

1  Cic.  De  Orat.  3.  34.  137  qui  primus  Homeri  libros,  confusos 
antea,  sic  disposuisse  dicitur  ut  nunc  habemus.  Pausan.  7.  16  Hfi<ri- 
ffrpaTOS  tint)  rd  0/j.TJpov  Si.fffirafffJi.4v a  re  nal  dXXa  d\Xa%oO  fj.vrnj.ovev6/j,ei>a. 
•fidpoifero.  One  of  the  Blot  Ofj.^pov  (which  are  all,  probably,  of  the 
Christian  era)  quotes  an  inscription  from  a  statue  of  Peisistratus  at 
Athens,  in  which  he  is  made  to  say  of  himself—  rbv  "0/j.Tjpov  \  rjdpotffa, 
ffTropa.Srji'  rb  irplv  aei56/j.fvot>.  It  is  most  unlikely  that  such  a  statue 
existed  (after  510  B.C.,  at  least),  and  the  inscription  is  probably  a  late 
rhetorical  figment — possibly  the  prime  source  of  the  story  which  first 
appears  in  Cicero.  A  scholium  on  Plautus,  found  after  Wolf's  time  and 
edited  by  Ritschl  (die  Alexandr.  Bibliothek  p.  4)  gives  the  story  in  a 
somewhat  more  circumstantial  form  :  Pisistratus  sparsam  prius  Homeri 
poesim...sollerti  cura  in  ea  quae  nunc  exstant  redegit  volumina,  usus  ad 
hoc  opus  divinum  industries,  quattuor  celeberrimorum  et  eniditissimomm 


CH.  IV.]  THE    HOMERIC   QUESTION.  115 

which  has  older  authority,  it  was  Lycurgus  who,  about  776 
B.  c.,  first  brought  to  Greece  Proper  a  complete  copy  of  the 
Homeric  poems,  previously  known  there  only  by  scattered 
fragments1.  Even  if  the  story  about  Peisistratus  is  accepted, 
it  does  not  disprove  the  original  unity  of  the  poems.  When, 
for  ages,  rhapsodies  had  been  recited  singly,  doubts  might 
have  arisen  as  to  their  proper  sequence  and  their  several 
relations  to  the  plan  of  the  great  epic.  It  would  satisfy  the 
vague  shape  in  which  the  story  has  reached  us,  if  we 
regarded  Peisistratus,  not  as  creating  a  new  unity,  but  as 
seeking  to  preserve  an  old  unity  which  had  been  obscured2. 

hotnimint,  videlicet  Concyli  (?),  Onomacriti  Atheniensis,  Zopyri  Hera- 
deotat,  et  Orphei  Crotoniatae.  This  was  taken  from  a  comment  by 
Tzetzes  (i2th  cent.),  first  published  by  Keil:  '0/«7pdous  5£  /SfySXous... 
a  vi>T40eiKa.i>  ffirovSri  HfiffiffTparos  [?  HeiffiffTparlScu]  irapa.  TUV  rtaaapuv 
TOVTUV  awfr&v  fir  I  KoyiftiXov,  'Ovofj.aKpirov  re  'A0r)t>alov,  Zwirtipov  re 
'Hpa/rXewToi;  /cai  KpoTWjaarou  'Op^wj.  Another  form  of  the  same  state- 
ment has  been  published  by  Cramer  from  a  Paris  MS.  :  ol  6t  rtaffapcri 
riffi  rwv  iiri  lieiffiffrpdrov  diopffwffiv  dva<pfpov<riv,  'Qp<pti  KpoTuvidr-g, 
Zuirvpip'Hpa.K\€tirr-{i,'Qi>o/j.a.KpiT({}'Adr)vai(i)Ka.l  Kay  tirl  KoyKV\u  (sic). 
In  the  margin  of  the  Par.  MS.  is  'AdijvoSup^  4triK\t]t>  [eTriic\r)crH>]  KopSu- 
\iuvi:  which  probably  means  that  Athenodorus  Cordylion,  a  Pergamene 
grammarian  of  the  2nd  cent.  B.C.,  was  taken  to  be  the  source  of 
the  statement.  It  has  been  conjectured  that  the  corrupt  words  4irl 
KoyicuXov  and  Kay  £wl  KoyKvXu  conceal  tviKbv  K<UK\OV,  and,  being  taken 
for  a  man's  name,  gave  rise  to  the  tradition  of  a  fourth  commissioner. 
But  all  this  is  doubtful.  See  Volkmann,  pp.  333 ff.  Onomacritus  was  'a 
soothsayer,  and  editor  (Sta^rijj)  of  the  oracles  of  Musaeus,'  who  was 
expelled  from  Athens  by  Hipparchus,  son  of  Peisistratus,  because  the 
lyric  poet,  Lasus  of  Hermione,  had  caught  him  in  the  act  of  interpola- 
ting an  oracle  (ifj.iroi.4ui>  4s  TO.  Movealov  xpwt^ — Her.  7.  6). 

1  Plutarch's  view  is  that,  circ.  776  B.C.,  the  Greeks  of  Greece  Proper 
knew  the  Homeric  poems  only  by  '  a  dim  rumour,' — a  few  persons 
possessing  fragments, — until  Lycurgus  brought  a  complete  copy  from 
Crete,  where  the  poems  were  preserved  by  the  descendants  of  Homer's 
friend,  Creophylus  : — rjv  yctp  rts  17617  5o£a  ruv  iiruv  d/xavpd  irapd.  T<HS 
',  tic£KTi)VTO  S  ov  iroXXoi  fJ^pr}  nvd,  cnropdSijv  rrjs  Tronrjfftus,  w> 
e,  dia<f>cpo(i.tvi)s  (Lycurg.  c.  4).  The  tradition  about  Lycurgus 
was  noticed  as  early  as  the  4th  century  B.C.  by  the  historian  Ephorus, 
and  Heracleides  Ponticus. 

-  Ritschl,  accepting  the  Peisistratus  story,  so  took  it. 

8—2 


Il6  HOMER.  [CH.   IV. 

12.  The  Homeric  poems,  said  Wolf,  show  art:  'but  it  is 
clear  that  this  art  is,  in  a  way,  comparatively  near  to  nature  ; 
it  is  drawn  from  a  native  feeling  for  what  is  right  and 
beautiful ;  it  is  not  derived  from  the  formal  methods  of 
a  school1'.  There  we  see  the  mark  of  Wolfs  age,  which 
was  in  revolt  against  the  pedantic  rules  of  pseudo- classicism. 
'Art'  was  now  associated  with  abstract  canons  on  the 
'unities,'  and  so  forth:  it  was  the  synonym  of  frigid  con- 
ventionality. 'Nature'  was  everything  that  put  'art'  to 
shame;  'nature'  was  freedom,  originality,  genius2.  The 
confusion  of  ideas  involved  in  this  antithesis  long  helped  to 
complicate  the  Homeric  question  in  Germany.  Wolf  was 
penetrated  by  the  idea  that  the  original  Homeric  poetry  was 
the  primitive  poetry  of  the  Greek  people  in  its  first  youth, 
instinct  with  'the  divine  force  and  breath  of  natural  genius3'. 
He  justly  says  that  'Homer  and  Callimachus,  Virgil,  Non- 
nus  and  Milton,'  are  not  to  be  read  in  the  same  spirit4. 

1  Proleg.  c.  XII.  p.  xlii.     In  1 735  Thomas  Blackwell,   Professor  of 
Greek  at   Aberdeen,   had  published   his   '  Inquiry  into  the  Life  and 
Writings  of  Homer.'    It  made  a  considerable  impression  both  at  home 
and  abroad,  because  it  hit  the  mind  of  the  age  by  tracing  Homer's 
excellence  to  the  happy  concurrence  of  natural  conditions. 

2  This  period  of  '  Sturm  und  Drang '  ('  storm  and  stress ')  was  so 
nick-named  from  a  drama  of  that  title  by  F.  M.  V.  Klinger(born  1752). 
Volkmann,  in  his  work  on  Wolf  already  cited,  regards  the  impulse  as 
having  come   to   Germany  from   the   English    literature   of  the  i8th 
century : — '  Genius  and  originality,  those  well-known  watchwords  of 
our  Sturm-und-Drang  period,  are  ideas  propagated  to  us  from  England ' 
(p.  14).     Cp.  G.  H.  Lewes,  Story  of  Goethe's  Life,  p.  79  :    'There  was 
one  universal  shout  for  nature.     With  the  young,  nature  seemed  to  be- 
a  compound  of  volcanoes  and  moonlight ;    her  force  explosion,   her 
beauty  sentiment.     To   be  insurgent  and  sentimental,  explosive  and 
lachrymose,  were  the  true  signs  of  genius.     Everything  established  was. 
humdrum.  Genius,  abhorrent  of  humdrum,  would  neither  spell  correctly, 
nor  write  correctly,  nor  demean  itself  correctly.     It  would  be  German — 
lawless,  rude,  natural.     Lawless  it  was,  and  rude  it  was, — but  natural? 
Not  according  to  Nature  of  any  reputable  type.' 

3  Proleg.  p.  cclv  'tUVtmliter  ludenti  populo...divina  ingenii  vi  ac.. 
spiritu.' 

4  ib.  p.  xliii. 


CH.  IV.]  THE    HOMERIC   QUESTION.  1 17 

But  it  was  an  error  on  the  other  side  to  compare  Homer 
with  the  ruder  forms  of  primitive  song  in  other  lands1. 
Our  own  early  ballads,  for  instance,  are  rich  in  the  pure 
elements  of  natural  poetry;  in  genuine  pathos,  especially, 
they  are  often  unsurpassed.  But  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey 
evidently  show  a  larger  mental  grasp ;  they  breathe  a  spirit 
of  finer  strain;  they  belong  to  an  order  of  poetry  which 
comes  later  in  the  intellectual  growth  of  a  people2.  When 
we  endeavour  to  define  Wolfs  notion  of  a  'primitive'  poet, 
we  find  only  one  clear  point.  He  is  a  poet  who,  being 
unable  to  write,  and  composing  for  hearers,  not  for  readers, 
makes  only  short  poems. 

13.     The  permanent  influence  of  Wolfs  work  has  been  Elasti- 
due  not  only  to  the  power  with  which  his  theory  was  stated,  Rolf's 
but  also  to  the  tact  with  which  he  refrained  from  making  it  theory. 
too   precise.      His   literary   sense,    keenly   alive   to    those 
inner  traits  which  give  each  epic  a  general   unity,  mode- 
rated his  use  of  the   external   arguments.      He   did    not 
attempt  to  define  exactly  how  much  the  original  poet  had 
done, — where  the  other  poets  come  in, — or  how  they  differ. 

1  The  poems  of  '  Ossian '  had  been  published  by  Macpherson  in 
1760 — 65.  Wolf  remarks  that  'Homer — i.e.  the  old  poetry  of  the 
lonians ' — stands  on  a  higher  level  than  '  the  Celtic  songs  of  Ossian ' ; 
but  he  hints  at  two  points  of  analogy  : — (i)  the  poems  are  not  all  of  one 
age ;  (ii)  they  have  not  come  down  in  their  original  form  (Proleg. 
p.  cclv).  Heyne  on  //.  16.  53  (ed.  min.)  compared  Homer's  similes 
with  Ossian's. 

3  Wolf  made  many  powerful  converts  among  the  German  critics  ; 
but  he  was  less  successful  with  the  poets.  Schiller  called  the  theory 
'barbaric.'  Wieland,  though  interested,  was  unconvinced.  Klopstock 
was  decidedly  adverse.  Goethe  went  with  Wolf  at  first  (1796),  but  in 
1 798  wrote  to  Schiller,  '  I  am  more  than  ever  convinced  of  the  unity  and 
indivisibility  of  the  poem '  (the  Iliad).  And  in  the  little  tract  called 
'  Homer  once  more '  ^Homer  noch  einmal)  that  appears  as  his  final 
view  (1821).  Voss,  at  once  scholar  and  poet,  was  also  unpersuaded. 

This  illustrates  Thirlwall's  remark  that  critics  who  have  studied 
the  details  of  the  Homeric  poems  have  usually  favoured  a  manifold 
authorship,  while  those  who  have  dwelt  rather  on  the  general  outlines 
have  tended  to  maintain  an  original  unity.  Poets  usually  look  at  Homer 
in  the  latter  way. 


Il8  HOMER.  [CH.   IV. 

Hence  'Wolfian'  is  a  somewhat  elastic  term,  including 
several  different  shades  of  opinion.  It  has  sometimes  been 
applied  too  narrowly,  and  sometimes  too  widely. 

The  distinctively  'Wolfian'  doctrine  is  simply  this, — 
that  the  Homeric  poems  were  put  together,  at  the  beginning 
of  the  Greek  literary  age,  out  of  shorter  unwritten  songs 
which  had  come  down  from  a  primitive  age.  How  many 
of  these  short  songs  we  are  to  conceive  as  due  to  one  man, 
was  a  minor  point.  Wolfs  own  belief,  as  we  have  seen,  was 
that  the  poet  who  began  the  series  of  songs  also  composed 
most  of  them,  and  that  the  later  poets  continued  the 
general  line  of  his  work. 

The  genuine  developments  of  Wolf's  theory  have  shown 
one  of  two  general  bents.  One  bent  has  been  to  make  the 
first  poet  of  the  series  less  influential  than  Wolf  did:  this  is 
represented  by  Lachmann.  The  other  bent  has  been 
to  make  him  still  more  influential :  this  is  represented  by 
Hermann. 

14.  Lachmann  dissected  the  Iliad  into  eighteen  sepa- 
rate lays1.  He  leaves  it  doubtful  whether  they  are  to  be 
ascribed  to  eighteen  distinct  authors.  But,  at  any  rate,  he 
maintains,  each  lay  was  originally  more  or  less  independent 
of  all  the  rest2.  His  main  test  is  the  inconsistency  of 
detail.  A  primitive  poet,  he  argued,  would  have  a  vivid 
picture  before  his  mind,  and  would  reproduce  it  with  close 

1  Betrachttingen  iiber  Homers  Ilias  (Berlin,  1874). 

2  The  only  distinct  exception  admitted  by  Lachmann  is  his  i6th  lay 
(  =  IHad  bks.  18 — 22),  which  was  intended  as  a  sort  of  sequel  to  the  15th 
(  =  11.  15.  592  to  end  of  xvii),  though  by  another  poet.    Generally,  how- 
ever, he  concedes  that,  after  the  i  ith  book  of  the  Iliad,  the  distinctness 
of  the  songs  is  less  well-marked.     Thus  they  all  agree  in  representing 
Agamemnon,  Odysseus,  and  Diomedes  as  placed  hors  de  combat. 

Grote  says  that  any  admission  as  to  the  later  songs  being  adapted  to 
the  earlier  is  'a  virtual  surrender  of  the  Wolfian  hypothesis'  (Hist.  Gr. 
vol.  II.  p.  233  note  i).  This  is  not  so.  Wolf  conceived  the  later  poets 
as  carrying  on  the  '  threads  '  of  the  first  and  chief  weaver  (see  p.  109). 
Wolf's  criticism  on  Lachmann  would  have  been  that  the  latter 
underrated  the  general  unity  which  the  epics  now  exhibit. 


CH.   IV.]  THE   HOMERIC   QUESTION.  119 

consistency.  He  also  affirms  that  many  of  the  lays  are 
utterly  distinct  in  general  spirit1.  Lachmann  had  been 
prepared  for  analysing  the  Iliad  by  previously  trying  his 
hand  on  the  Nibelungenlied,  in  which  he  discovered  twenty 
independent  lays8.  Unfortunately  for  the  analogy,  later 
researches  have  made  this  view  of  the  Nibelungenlied  im- 
probable. 

The  arbitrary  character  of  such  a  theory  as  Lachmann's 
is  shown  by  the  plurality  of  such  theories.  Kochly,  too,  has 
dissected  the///a^  into  sixteen  lays  besides  books  9  and  10*. 
But  Kochly's  lays  are  not  Lachmann's.  The  two  operators 
take  different  views  of  the  anatomy.  A  'theory  of  small 
songs'  (Klein-Lieder-Theorie),  whatever  special  form  it  may 
assume,  necessarily  excludes  the  view  that  any  one  poet  had 
a  dominant  influence  on  the  general  plan  of  the  poems. 

15.  Hermann,  on  the  other  hand,  developed  Wolf's  view  Her- 
more  in  Wolf's  spirit*.  Hermann  clearly  perceived  one  uiann< 
difficulty  which  Wolf  had  left  unexplained.  The  weaving 
of  the  Homeric  web  was  begun,  said  Wolf,  by  the  first  and 
chief  poet,  who  carried  it  down  '  to  a  certain  point ' :  then 
others  continued  it.  But  why  should  they  have  continued 
it  only  within  such  narrow  limitations?  Why  did  they 
confine  themselves  to  a  few  days  in  the  siege  of  Troy? 
Why  did  they  sing  the  '  return '  of  no  hero  except  Odysseus? 
Because,  said  Hermann,  the  great  primitive  poet  ('Homer') 
had  not  simply  carried  a  web  down  to  a  certain  point. 
Rather,  making  large  use  of  earlier  materials,  he  had  pro- 
duced the  original  sketch  of  our  Iliad  and  the  original 
sketch  of  our  Odyssey  ('  Ur-Ilias,'  '  Ur-Odyssee'}.  The  task 

1  '  ihrem  Geiste  nach  hochst  verschiedene  Lieder '  (Fernere  Betrach- 
tungen  etc.,  p.  18,  §  xxiii). 

9  Ueber  die  urspriingliche  Gestalt  des  Gedichts  von  der  Nibelungen 
Not  A,  Berlin,  1816. 

3  Iliadis  Carmina  XVI.   Restituta  edidit  Arminius  Kochly  Turi- 
ctnsis,  1861. 

4  Dissertatio  de  Interpolationibus  Homeri  in  his  Ofuscuia,  vol.  v. 
P-  5*  ( 1834).  Ueber  Homer  und  Sappho  ib.  vi.  pars  I.  p.  70  (1835).    De 
Iteralis  apud  Homtrum,  ib.  vill.  p.  n  (1840). 


120  HOMER.  [CH.   IV. 

of  after-comers  was  not  to  carry  on  a  line  of  texture,  but 
merely  to  complete  a  design  within  fixed  outlines. 

In  accordance  with  the  Wolfian  view  of  a  primitive  poet, 
Hermann  conceived  each  of  these  poems  as  short.  But  though 
'of  no  great  compass,'  the  two  poems  excelled  all  other  pro- 
ductions of  their  age  in  'spirit,  vigour,  and  art.'  The  poets 
who  came  after  Homer,  down  to  the  time  of  the  'Cyclic  epics' 
(i.e.  to  about  800  B.C.),  confined  themselves  to  engrafting 
new  work  on  the  original  Iliad  and  Odyssey.  This  work 
took  chiefly  three  forms,  (i)  They  added  passages  imi- 
tated from  Homer,  even  repeating  whole  verses  or  groups 
of  verses.  The  opening  of  Iliad  8  was  in  Hermann's 
view  an  instance  of  such  imitation.  (2)  They  expanded 
passages  of  the  original  poems :  thus  the  fight  of  the  gods  in 
Iliad  21  was  expanded  from  Iliad  20.  56 — 74.  (3)  Gene- 
rally, they  retouched  or  recast  the  original  poems  in  such  a 
way  as  to  invest  them  with  a  new  aspect.  When  Hermann 
spoke  of  'interpolation*  in  Homer,  he  did  not  mean  only 
the  insertion  of  verses.  Writing  in  Latin,  he  used  'inter- 
polation' in  its  Latin  sense, — 'furbishing  up'1.  These 
later  poets  would  have  had  no  audience,  he  argued,  if  they 
had  stepped  beyond  the  charmed  circle  traced  by  the 
primitive  Homer.  And  lest  the  potency  of  the  spell  should 
seem  too  marvellous,  he  made  a  further  supposition. 
Homer.'s  work  was  not  only  supreme  in  merit,  but  new 
in  kind.  The  bards  before  him  had  been  wholly  didactic. 
He  was  the  first  who  sang  the  deeds  of  heroes.  This 
assumption  is  improbable  in  itself;  and,  if  granted,  would 
not  suffice  to  explain  why  two  heroic  themes  should  have 
monopolised  the  epic  activity  of  centuries. 

1 6.     Thus  far  we  have  seen  Homer  identified  with  the 

1  Hermann  defined  his  own  use  of  the  term  in  a  letter  to  Ilgen, 
prefixed  to  his  ed.  of  the  Hymns  (1806)  p.  viii :  '  Interpolationem  autem 
dico  non  modo  quam  nunc  plerique  intelligunt,  quae  est  in  adiectione 
novorum  vtrsuum,  sed  quam  antiqui  appellabant,  cuius  est  omnino  rein 
veterem  nova  specie  indture?  (Cp.  Cic.  ad  Q.  Fr.  ii.  12  togam . . . inter- 
polet,  'have  his  toga  whitened  anew.') 


CH.  IV.]  THE   HOMERIC   QUESTION.  121 

primitive  epics  of  short  unwritten  lays.     That  is  the  funda-  The 

mental  idea  common  to  Wolf  and  the  genuine  Wolfians.  as  epop*6 

view. 
Lachmann   and    Hermann.     We  now  turn   to  a   radically 

different  conception,  and  one  which  is  nearer  to  the 
truth.  In  this,  Homer  is  no  longer  the  primitive  bard. 
He  is  the  great  poetical  artist  who,  coming  after  the  age  of 
short  lays,  frames  an  epic  on  a  larger  plan.  He  is  the 
founder  of  epopee. 

This  view  found  an  able  exponent  in  G.  W.  Nitzsch,  Nitzsch. 
who  represents  the  first  effective  reaction  against  the 
Wolfian  theory '.  He  pointed  out  that  some  of  the  '  Cyclic ' 
epics,  dating  from  the  seventh  and  eighth  centuries  B.C., 
presuppose  our  Iliad  and  Odyssey  in  something  like  their 
present  compass  and  form8,  being  designed  as  supplements 
or  introductions  to  the  Homeric  poems8.  He  showed  that 
the  Greek  use  of  writing  was  presumably  older  than  Wolf 
had  assumed,  and  might  have  been  used  to  help  the 
memory  long  before  there  was  a  reading  public. 

'  By  Homer,'  says  Nitzsch,  '  I  understand  the  man  who 
made  a  great  advance  from  the  various  smaller  songs  by  older 

1  De  Historia  ffomeri  maximeque  de  scriptorum  carmiiium  aetate 
Hiffetemata  (Hanover,  1830 — 1837.  Supplementary  parts  were  published 
at  Kiel  in  1837  and  1839).  His  earliest  contribution  to  the  Homeric 
question  was  his  Indagandae  per  Homeri  Odysseum  interpolations 
praeparatio  (1828).  Among  his  earlier  Homeric  writings  may  be 
mentioned  also  the  article  '  Odyssee'  in  the  '  Allgemeine  Encyclopadie ' 
(1829).  His  Sagenpoesie  der  Gricchen  appeared  in  1851:  his  Beitrage 
zur  Geschichtc  der  epischtn  Pdesie,  in  1862. 

J  De  Hist.  Horn,  p.  152.  He  refers  to  (i)  the  Aethiopis  and//iw 
Persis  of  Arctinus,  (2)  the  Cypria,  (3)  the  Nostiof  Hagias,  (4)  the  Little 
Iliad  of  Lesches,  (5)  the  Telegonia  of  Eugammon.  When  these  poems 
were  written,  we  must  concede,  he  says,  Iliadem  et  Odysseam  ambitu 
ac  forma  in  utiiversum  tales  iam  ac  tantas  extitisse,  quantas  hodie 
habemus. 

3  The  first  vol.  of  F.  G.  Welcker's  'Der  Epische  Cyclus  oder 
die  hornerischen  Dichter' — the  book  which  first  threw  a  clear  light 
on  the  'Cyclic'  epics— appeared  at  Bonn  in  1835  (2nd  ed.,  1865): 
the  second  vol.  in  1849.  Nitzsch's  position  was  much  strengthened  by 
Welcker's  results. 


122  HOMER.  [CH.   IV. 

bards  which  treated  of  the  Trojan  war,  and  shaped  the 
llliad' — which  previously  had  dealt  only  with  the  'counsel 
of  Zeus' — into  our  Iliad  on  'the  wrath  of  Achilles.'... In 
this  poem,  I  fancy  that  much  from  older  songs  was  retained. 
The  Odyssey  was  the  work,  perhaps,  of  the  same  poet,  older 
sources  being  used  in  a  similar  way.'  But  in  the  Odyssey, 
Nitzsch  adds,  we  see  the  poet's  originality  more  fully  than 
in  the  Iliad.  The  Odyssey  was  the  first  great  epic  of  its 
kind, — i.e.  dealing  with  a  complex  series  of  romantic 
adventures.  And  the  details  of  embellishment  in  the 
Odyssey  were  almost  all  due  to  the  author  himself. 

Thus  Nitzsch  conceives  Homer  as  a  very  ancient  poet, 
and  as  one  with  whom  an  epoch  begins.  He  found  a  number 
of  short  lays  about  Troy.  He  achieved  a  work  of  a  new 
kind  by  building  up,  partly  from  these,  a  large  epic  on 
the  wrath  of  Achilles.  Minor  interpolations  and  changes 
were  made  afterwards.  But  our  Iliad,  mainly  the  work 
of  one  man,  and  our  Odyssey,  perhaps  by  the  same 
author,  had  taken  substantially  their  present  shape  con- 
siderably earlier  than  800  B.C. 

17.  Grote  accepts  the  essential  part  of  Nitzsch's  view1. 
He  conceives  Homer  as  belonging  to  the  second,  not  the 
first,  stage  in  the  development  of  epos, — as  the  composer  of 
the  large  epic,  not  as  the  primitive  bard  of  the  short  lays. 
But  he  thinks  that  our  Iliad  has  outgrown  the  plan  of  the 
large  poem  as  originally  composed.  That  poem  was  on  the 
wrath  of  Achilles  :  it  was  an  Achilleid.  Another  poet,  or 
poets,  aimed  at  converting  it  into  a  poem  on  the  war  of 
Troy  generally, — an  Iliad.  Whole  rhapsodies  were  added 
which  have  no  strict  relation  with  the  Achilleid  proper,  and 
interrupt  or  unduly  prolong  it. 

1  Hist.  Gr.  c.  xxi.  vol.  II.  p.  234:  'The  age  of  the  epos  is  followed 
by  that  of  the  epopee — short  spontaneous  effusions  preparing  the  way, 
and  furnishing  materials,  for  the  architectonic  genius  of  the  poet... 
Such,  in  my  judgement,  is  the  right  conception  of  the  Homeric  epoch — 
an  organising  poetical  mind,  still  preserving  that  freshness  of  observation 
and  vivacity  of  details  which  constitutes  the  charm  of  the  ballad.' 


CH.  IV.]  THE    HOMERIC   QUESTION.  123 

The  original  Achilleid  consisted  only  of  books  i,  8,  'Achil- 
and  ii  to  22  inclusive,  ending  with  the  slaying  of  Hector 
by  Achilles.  Books  2  to  7  inclusive,  9,  10,  23  and  24 
were  added  with  the  view  of  making  this  Achilleid  into  an 
Iliad.  In  book  i  Zeus  promises  to  punish  the  Greeks  for 
the  affront  to  Achilles :  why  does  he  do  nothing  to  fulfil  his 
promise  till  book  8  ?  Books  2 — 7  are  simply  '  a  splendid 
picture  of  the  war  generally.'  Then  in  book  9  (the  embassy) 
the  Greeks  humble  themselves  before  Achilles,  and  he 
spurns  them ;  this  is  unseemly, — nay,  shocking  to  the 
'sentiment  of  Nemesis';  and  in  book  16.  52 — 87  Achilles 
speaks  as  if  no  such  supplication  had  been  made  to  him. 
Book  10,  though  fitted  to  its  place,  is  a  detached  episode, 
with  no  bearing  on  the  sequel.  Book  23  (the  funeral  games 
for  Patroclus)  and  book  24  (the  ransoming  of  Hector's 
corpse)  'may  have  formed  part  of  the  original  Iliad,'  but 
are  more  probably  later  additions. 

1 8.     Crete's  arguments  against  the  several  'non-Achil-  Estimate 
lean'  books  have  very  different  degrees  of  force.     Book  10,  Grote's 
though  composed  for  its  present  place,  is  unquestionably  theory, 
later  than  any  other  large  part  of  the  Iliad.     The  language 
gives    many   indications   of  this1;   and   the   characteristic 
nobleness  of  the  Iliad  here   sinks  to   a   lower  style  and 
tone.     As  to  book  9,  Grote's  objection  to  its  general  fitness 
is  over-strained.     Achilles  is  possessed  by  a  burning  resent- 
ment :    it  is  not  enough  for  him  that  the  Greeks  should 
confess   their  fault ;    they  must  smart  for  it.     But  Grote 
is  right  in  saying  that  book  9  cannot   have   been   known 
to  the  composer  of  book   16.    52 — 87.     Book  9  certainly 

1  See  Monro,  //.  I — XII.,  p.  354.  Among  them  are,  some  perfects 
in  Ka  from  derivative  verbs,  as  ^e^Li)Kfv  :  jjuyqfftffOai.  (365),  the  only 
2nd  fut.  pass,  in  Homer,  except  SaTj'tro/xai  (in  Od.  3.  187,  19.  325) : 
vvv  (v.  105)  as  =  'now':  clear  instances  of  the  article  used  in  a 
post-Homeric  way :  several  words  for  armour  and  dress  which  occur 
nowhere  else  in  Homer  (as  Karairvf ,  ffavpurrjp,  ticraSlri,  KTI^IJ)  ;  and 
some  words  frequent  in  the  Odyssey,  but  not  elsewhere  found  in  the 
Iliad  (as  5i<m,  <f>rj/JLU,  86£o,  d.<rdnivOos). 


124  HOMER.  [CH.  IV. 

did  not  belong  to  the  original  form  of  the  poem.  It  has 
traits  of  language  and  of  matter  which  bring  it  nearer  to 
parts  of  books  23,  24,  and  even  10,  while  they  separate 
it  from  the  body  of  the  Iliad\ 

It  is  in  regard  to  book  8  that  Grote's  theory  is  most 
decidedly  at  fault.  He  makes  it  part  of  his  original  Achil- 
leid.  But  it  stands  in  the  most  intimate  poetical  connection 
with  book  9.  The  reverses  of  the  Greeks  in  book  8  lead 
up  to  the  embassy  in  9,  and  the  poet  intended  them 
to  do  so.  And  this  fact  agrees  with  the  proofs  in  book 
8  itself  that  its  origin  was  later  than  that  of  the  greater  part 
of  the  Iliad.  A  large  proportion  of  its  verses  has  been 
borrowed  or  adapted  from  other  parts  of  the  Iliad,  or  from 
the  Odyssey2. 

Books  2 — 7  delay  the  story,  and  almost  certainly  did 
not  belong  to  the  first  form  of  the  poem  ;  but  everything 
indicates  that  these  books  (excepting  the  '  Catalogue '  in 
book  2)  must  have  been  among  the  earliest  additions  to 
it ;  and  they  are  unquestionably  older  than  book  8,  whose 
poet  has  imitated  them.  Grote  is  right  in  regarding  books 
23  and  24  as  additions  to  the  original  poem.  But  they 
stand  on  different  levels.  Book  24  is  in  the  highest  Homeric 
strain,  and,  if  not  contemplated  in  the  first  design  of  the 
poem,  is  at  least  entirely  in  unison  with  it.  The  games 
in  book  23  are  an  addition  by  an  inferior  and  probably 
later  hand. 

19.  Few  things  in  Homeric  criticism  are  more  interest- 
ing than  to  consider  how  Grote  was  led  to  form  his  theory, 
with  book  8  for  its  pivot.  He  was  looking  for  the  earliest  sign 
of  Zeus  fulfilling  the  promise  made  in  book  i,  and  discom- 
fiting the  Greeks.  He  found  this  in  book  8,  and  thence 
inferred  that,  in  the  original  '  Achilleid,'  book  8  immediately 

1  Examples  are — wore  with  infin.  (42);  the  impers.  Set  (337)  :  the 
mention  of  Apollo's  shrine  at  Pytho  (Delphi,  405) :  the  mention  of 
Egypt  (382):  the  use  of'EXXas  in  a  large  sense,  as  at  least  =  Northern 
Thessaly  (447) — all  unique  in  the  Iliad. 

"*  On  book  8  see  Christ's  Prolegomena  to  the  Iliad,  pp.  69  f. 


CH.  IV. J  THE    HOMERIC   QUESTION.  125 

followed  book  i.  Now,  there  are  two  distinct  moments  in 
the  Iliad  at  which  the  tide  of  war  turns  against  the  Greeks. 
One  is  book  8.  The  other  is  book  n.  Grote  saw  that 
books  9  and  10  were  later  than  the  original  form  of 
the  poem.  But  he  omitted  to  observe  that  the  poet 
who  abased  the  Greeks  before  Achilles  in  book  9  would 
have  felt  the  necessity  of  first  discomfiting  them  in  war; 
that,  therefore,  book  9  would  account  for  book  8  ;  and  that 
the  primary  form  of  the  poem  becomes  both  simpler  and 
more  intelligible  if  we  suppose  that,  in  it,  book  i  was 
once  closely  followed  by  book  n.  That  such  was  the 
case,  the  results  of  more  recent  studies  strongly  tend  to 
show. 

Grote  recognised  that  the  books  which  he  rejected  from  Source 
the  original  Achilleid  were,  in  large  part,  of  high  intrinsic  oftheP 
excellence.     'Amongst  them   are   comprehended  some  ofnon-. 
the  noblest  efforts  of  the  Grecian  epic.'     He  also  held  that 
they  were   of  practically  the  same  date  as  the  Achilleid 
itself: — 'they    belong    to    the    same    generation.'       The 
Odyssey,  in  his  belief,  was  the  work  of  one  author,  who  was 
distinct  from  the  author  of  the  Achilleid,  but  coeval  with 
him, — their  age  being  '  a  very  early  one,  anterior  to  the  first 
Olympiad'  (776  B.C.)'. 

20.  Accepting  Grote's  definition  of  the  Achilleid,  Ged-  Geddes. 
des8  has  maintained  that  the  non-Achillean  books  of  the 
Iliad  were  composed  by  a  later  poet,  the  author  of  the 
Odyssey.  He  'engrafted  on  a  more  ancient  poem,  the 
Achilleid,  splendid  and  vigorous  saplings  of  his  own,  trans- 
forming and  enlarging  it  into  an  Iliad,  but  an  Iliad  in 
which  the  engrafting  is  not  absolutely  complete,  where  the 
'sutures'  are  still  visible.'  The  kinship  between  the  Odyssey 
and  the  '  non- Achillean '  books  of  the  Iliad  (i.e.  2 — 7, 
9,  10,  23,  24)  is  recognised  especially  (i)  in  the  mode 

1  Grote  Hist.  Gr.  vol.  II.  pp.  236,  262,  273. 

8  The  Problem  of  the  Homeric  Poems.  By  William  D.  Geddes,  LL.D., 
Professor  of  Greek  in  [now  Principal  of]  the  University  of  Aberdeen. 
{Macmillan,  1878.) 


T26  HOMER.  [CH.   IV. 

fcf  presenting  Odysseus,  Hector,  Helen,  and  some  other 
persons ;  (2)  in  the  aspects  of  the  gods  and  their  worship, 
(3)  in  ethical  purpose;  (4)  in  local  marks  of  origin, — the 
traces  of  an  Ionian  origin  being  common  to  the  Odyssey 
with  the  non-Achillean  books  of  the  Iliad,  and  with  those 
alone. 

It  can  scarcely  be  questioned  that  the  Odyssey,  while 
bearing  the  general  impress  of  the  same  early  age  as 
the  Iliad,  belongs  to  a  somewhat  later  part  of  that  age. 
We  have  seen  some  tokens  of  this  in  Chapter  II.  Nor  can 
it  be  doubted  that  many  real  affinities  exist  between 
the  Odyssey  and  the  later  books  of  the  Iliad.  But  it 
is  less  easy  to  decide  how  far  these  traits  are  due  to 
a  single  mind,  to  the  influence  of  a  school,  or  to  the 
traditional  form  of  epic  material.  On  any  view,  the  work 
of  Geddes  will  always  rank  as  a  very  able  and  original  con- 
tribution to  the  question1. 

V.Christ.  21.  A  view  of  the  Iliad  which  is  in  some  measure  con- 
servative, and  which  aims  at  reconciling  divergent  theories, 
has  been  fully  expounded  by  Christ,  in  the  Prolegomena  to 
his  edition  of  the  text  (1884).  The  following  is  an  outline 
of  it. 

A  great  poet,  Homer,  composed  a  number  of  epic  lays, 
intended  to  be  recited  separately,  and  therefore  to  some 
extent  independent,  but  also  connected  by  an  organic  plan 
which  was  definitely  before  his  mind.  The  'old,'  or  original, 
Iliad  consisted  of  these  lays,  and  formed  a  whole  complete 
in  itself.  It  contained  the  quarrel  of  Agamemnon  and 
Achilles  (bk.  i.  i — 305);  the  resolve  of  Zeus  to  avenge 
Achilles  (bk.  i.  306 — end);  the  exploits  of  Agamemnon,  his 
wounding,  and  the  rout  of  the  Greeks  (bk.  n.  i — 595);  the 
sally  of  Patroclus  to  help  the  Greeks,  and  his  slaying  by- 
Hector  (bks.  1 6  and  17);  the  return  of  Achilles  to  the  war, 

1  Of  especial  interest  are  the  chapters  on  the  '  Local  Mint-marks 
(xvin. — XXI.),  showing  how  the  traits  which  indicate  personal  know- 
ledge of  European  and  Asiatic  Hellas  respectively  are  distributed  in  the 
poems. 


CH.  IV.]  THE    HOMERIC   QUESTION.  127 

his  routing  of  the  Trojans,  and  his  slaying  of  Hector  (bks. 
1 8 — 22,  excepting  some  large  interpolations). 

This  '  old '  Iliad  was,  however,  amplified  in  many  ways  ; 
partly  by  its  author,  Homer ;  partly  by  poets  to  whom  ho 
had  entrusted  'the  keeping,  reciting,  and  publishing'  of 
his  poem.  Christ  calls  these  poets  '  Homeridae,'  and 
conceives  Homer  as  '  the  founder  of  their  clan '  ( '  conditor 
gentis'). 

22.  To  distinguish  between  the  additions  made  to  the 
'  old '  Iliad  by  Homer  himself,  and  those  made  by  the 
'  Homeridae,'  is,  he  thinks,  as  difficult  as  to  distinguish 
'between  the  genuine  and  the  spurious  elements  in  Mozart's 
Requiem.''  However,  he  can  discern  at  least  four  main 
groups  of  additions. 

(1)  The  earliest  additions  consisted,  roughly,  of  bks.  2, 
3,  4,  5,  minus  the  'Catalogue'  in  bk.  2.     The  object  was  to 
gratify  the  'Aeolian  and  Ionian  fellow-citizens  of  Homer'  by 
praises  of  ancestral  chiefs. 

(2)  Then  those  parts  of  bks.  5  and  6  which  relate  to 
Sarpedon  and  Glaucus  were  added  from  a  similar  motive. 
Christ  dwells  on  the  fact  that  in  the  Iliad  we  have  two  sets 
of  Lycians ;  the  northern,  neighbours  to  Troy,  and  led  by 
Pandarus  ;  and  the  southern,  under  Sarpedon  and  Glaucus. 
The  latter,    with  their  chiefs,  were   brought  in   to   please 
lonians  claiming  descent  from  Glaucus. 

The  building  of  the  wall  at  the  Greek  camp  was  now  in- 
vented, in  order  to  give  occasion  for  the  splendid  scenes  of 
assault  and  repulse.  Books  12,  13,  14  (part),  and  15  were 
added. 

(3)  Another  poet  now  sought  to  perfect  the  Iliad  by 
connecting  its  parts  more  closely;  by  adding  the  embassy  to 
Achilles ;  and  by  closing  the  poem  with  the  ransoming  of 
Hector's  corpse.     He  added  books  7,  8,  9,  the  latter  part  of 
ii  (from  596),  19  (to  356),  23  (to  256),  and  24.     Such  a 
book  as  24  had,  indeed,  been  part  of  the  original  Homer's 
design. 

The  Iliad  was  now  complete  in  its  enlarged  form.     All 


128  HOMER.  [CH.   IV. 

this  had  been  done  '  some  time  before '  arc.  800  B.C.  :  Christ 
is  dubious  as  to  the  number  of  poets,  but  thinks  that,  in- 
cluding the  original  Homer,  there  were  not  more  than  four. 
(4)  The  '  Homerid  rhapsodes '  further  added  some 
passages,  which  were  composed  while  the  epic  art  still 
flourished.  Such  are  the  part  assigned  to  Phoenix  in  bk.  9  ; 
bk.  10  (the  Doloneia) ;  the  making  of  the  armour  in  bk.  18; 
the  fight  of  Achilles  and  Aeneas  in  bk.  20  (75 — 352).  Lastly, 
some  tasteless  rhapsodes  made  minor  additions,  and,  among 
other  things,  thrust  the  'Catalogue'  into  bk.  2.  The  ad- 
ditions of  this  fourth  group  were  made  in  the  8th  and 
7th  centuries  B.C. 

23.  Dr  Christ  divides  the  Iliad  into  40  lays,  which  follow 
each  other  in  the  order  of  our  text,  and  were  meant  to  be  re- 
cited in  that  order,  though  composed  (as  we  have  seen)  at 
various  times.    The  Iliad  had  been  committed  to  writing,  he 
thinks,  before   the  time  of  Peisistratus,  but   only  in  these 
separate  lays,  with  separate  titles.    Peisistratus  first  caused  the 
series  to  be  committed  to  writing  as  a  single  ordered  whole. 
It  will  be  seen  that  Christ  somewhat  resembles  Hermann 
(whose  work  on  '  interpolation '  he  admires)  in  his  way  of 
conceiving  the  relation  between  Homer  and  post-Homeric 
additions.     His   reasoning  is  strict,  yet   not  rigid.     Much 
of  it  deals  with  points  on  which  it  is  hopeless  to  expect 
general    agreement'.      But    he    has    greatly    strengthened 
the  general  conclusion  that  the  Iliad  is  an  enlargement  of  an 
epic  by  a  great  poet,  who  worked  on  a  great  but  compara- 
tively simple  plan,  leaving  room  for  others  to  complete  or  to 
complicate  it*. 

24.  The  closer  unity  of  plan  in  the  Odyssey,  as  compared 
with  the  Iliad,  has  been  recognised  by  every  modern  critic 
from  Wolf  onwards.     In  some  degree,  this  greater  unity  is  a 

1  As,  indeed,  he  feels ;  Proleg.  p.  95  :  '  Sed  haec  sunt  altioris 
indaginis,  quae  vereor  ut  umquam  omnibus  plane  persuader!  possint.1 

3  A  feature  of  peculiar  value  in  Christ's  edition  is  the  analysis  of  his 
40  lays  in  what  he  regards  as  the  chronological  order  of  their  com- 
position,— showing  in  detail  how  each  was  related  to  the  rest,  whether 
as  model  or  as  imitation  (Proleg.  pp.  57 — 78). 


CH.  IV.]  THE   HOMERIC   QUESTION.  129 

necessary  result  of  the  generic  difference  between  the  two 
poems.  The  person  of  Odysseus  knits  together  all  the 
parts  of  the  Odyssey  more  strictly  than  the  wrath  of 
Achilles  could  knit  together  all  the  parts  of  an  Iliad. 
But,  over  and  above  this,  it  is  clear  that  in  the  dove-tailing 
of  the  Odyssey  we  see  the  work  of  one  mind.  The 
question  is  whether  we  can  discern  different  bodies  of 
original  material  which  the  single  constructor  used. 

With  regard  to  the  composition  of  the  Odyssey,  the  most  Kirch- 
elaborate  and  ingenious  view  which  has  yet  been  put  forward  hoff- 
is  that  of  Kirchhoff.     It  is  as  follows.     There  was  a  very 
old  poem  on  the  '  Return  of  Odysseus '  (Nocrros  'OSvoWws). 
It  contained  the  adventures  of  the  hero  on  his  homeward 
voyage  down  to  his  landing  in  Ithaca,  and  answered  roughly 
to  our  books  5,  6,  7  (greater  part),  9,  n  (greater  part),  and 
13  (  to  v.  184).     The  'Return'  was  not  a  mere  folk-song. 
It  was  an  epic  poem,  composed,  probably,  long  after  the 
epic  art  had  been  matured. 

Later,  but  still  before  800  B.C.,  another  poet  composed  a 
sequel  to  the  '  Return,'  telling  the  adventures  of  Odysseus 
after  his  arrival  in  Ithaca.  This  sequel  consisted  of  bks.  1 3 
(from  v.  185)  to  23  (v.  296)  inclusive,  excepting  bk.  15. 
(Book  23.  v.  296  is  the  point  at  which  Aristarchus  thought 
that  the  genuine  Odyssey  ended.)  The  author  of  the  sequel 
used  a  number  of  popular  epic  lays,  but  lacked  the  skill 
to  blend  them  into  a  perfect  unity.  Hence  many  contra- 
dictions and  inequalities  remain.  But  he  carried  the  fusion 
at  least  so  far  that  we  can  no  longer  clearly  separate  the 
original  lays. 

The  sequel  never  existed  apart  from  the  old  '  Return.' 
The  'Return'  and  the  sequel  together  formed  a  single  poem. 
Kirchhoff  calls  this  poem  '  the  older  redaction '  of  the  Odys- 
sey, — older  than  circ.  800  B.C. 

About  660  B.C.  a  third  poet  took  up  the  work.  The 
framework  of  the  Odyssey  was  already  complete.  But  this 
new  poet  wished  to  incorporate  with  it  some  other  lays  of 
the  same  group.  He  wished  also  to  give  it  a  better  ending. 


130  HOMER.  [CH.   IV. 

He  added  the  adventures  of  Telemachus  (bks.  i — 4)';  bks. 
8,  10,  12 8,  15,  23  (from  v.  297),  and  24.  In  doing  this,  he 
freely  altered  or  mutilated  the  text  of  the  '  older  redaction.' 
Thus  arose  the  '  later  redaction,'  which  is  our  Odyssey,  save 
for  some  small  interpolations  by  later  hands. 

25.  Kirchhoff's  arguments  are  given  partly  in  a  continuous 
commentary  on  the  text,  partly  in  short  essays.  A  brief 
summary  would  be  unjust.  The  strength  of  his  case  depends 
essentially  on  the  cumulative  force  of  a  great  number  of 
subtle  observations8.  Even  those  who  cannot  accept  his 

1  Kirchhoff  regards  the  first  87  verses  of  bk.   i  as  having  formed 
the    exordium    of   the    original    Nooros.     The  Telemachy   begins  at 
bk.    i.   88.     A  curious  discrepancy  of  time  between  the  Telemachy 
and  the  rest  of  the  poem  had  long  ago  been   noticed.     Telemachus 
leaves    Ithaca    on    the   evening    of    the    2nd    day  after   the    Odyssey 
opens,  intending  to  be  absent  not   more  than    12  days   (2.   374   ff. : 
cp.  4.  632).     He  reaches  Sparta  on  the  evening  of  the  5th  day  of  the 
poem,  and  is  left  there  by  the  poet  on  the  morning  of  the  6th,  purposing 
to  return  at  once,   as  his  companions  at  Pylos  are  awaiting  him  (4. 
595  ff.).     Then  book  5  turns  to  Odysseus  :  who  at  last  reaches  Ithaca  on 
the  36th  day  of  the  poem  (13.  119).     But  Telemachus  returns  to  Ithaca 
one  day  later  than  his  father :  i.e.  on  the  37th  of  the  poem,  and  the 
36th  of  his  own  absence.     (Mure,  Hist.   Gk.  Lit.   I.  440  ff.)     Geddes 
(p.  32)  suggests  an  interesting  possibility — viz.,   that  the   poet   may 
originally  have  intended  to  send  Telemachus  on  from  Sparta  to  the 
court   of  Idomeneus  in  Crete, — a  visit  which  would  account  for  the 
superfluous  days.     In  Od.  I,  after  v.  93,  in  which  Athene  says  that  she 
will  send  Telemachus  to  Pylos  and  Sparta,  some  ancient  copies  read, — 
KfWev  5'  £$  KpTjriji'  re  (KeWev  5£  K.pTJTr)v5e?)  irap  'Idoftevrja  avanra.'  \  05 
y&p  Sevraros  rj\6ev' A.'x.aitav  xaXKOXiruvuv. 

2  Books  10  and  12 — now  part  of  the  narrative  given  by  Odysseus  to 
Alcinous — were  adapted  (Kirchhoff  thinks)  from  lays  in  which  the  poet 
told  the  story  in  the  third  person.     Book  9  and  the  old  part  of  book  1 1 
had  always  been  in  the  first  person  ;  and  the  third  poet  had  to  suit  the 
new  books  to  their  place. 

8  In  estimating  Kirchhoff's  view,  undue  prominence  has  sometimes 
been  given  to  one  of  his  particular  arguments,  which  is  easily  answered 
— that  in  the  NOOTOJ  Odysseus  is  in  his  prime,  and  in  the  'sequel'  is  an 
old  man.  The  transformation  is  due  to  Athene's  magic  (13.  429); 
and  her  wand  cannot  well  be  explained  as  a  device  for  harmonising  the 
two  poems. — It  has  been  noticed  that  in  Od.  13.  399  the  hero's  hair  is 


CH.  IV.l  THE    HOMERIC   QUESTION.  131 

theory  in  detail  must  (I  think;  allow  that  he  has  proved 
two  general  propositions,  or  at  least  has  shown  them 
to  be  in  the  highest  degree  probable,  (i)  The  Odyssey 
contains  distinct  strata  of  poetical  material,  from  different 
sources  and  periods.  (2)  The  poem  owes  its  present  unity 
of  form  to  one  man ;  but,  under  this  unity  of  form,  there 
are  perceptible  traces  of  a  process  by  which  different  com- 
positions were  adapted  to  each  other. 

Against  Kirchhoff's  theory,  Niese1  has  re-asserted  the 
view  which  had  previously  been  general, — that  the  Odyssey, 
nearly  in  its  present  form,  had  been  completed  before 
776  B.C.  But  the  influence  of  Kirchhoff's  work,  especially 
in  Germany,  has  been  deeply  felt,  and  is  not  likely  to 
•diminish.  It  is  in  the  Iliad,  however,  that  the  main  interest 
of  the  Homeric  question .  must  always  be  centred.  The 
Odyssey  problem  is  not  only  different,  but  less  importunate. 
In  the  Odyssey  we  have  a  poem  which  owes  at  least  its 
existing  shape  to  a  single  hand,  and  which,  notwithstanding 
the  patent  or  latent  discrepancies,  can  be  read  without 
the  question  of  a  complex  origin  being  forced  upon  the 
mind.  Further  analysis  is  less  interesting  than  in  the  case 
of  the  Iliad,  while  it  is  also  necessarily  more  difficult. 

26.     The  history  of  early  epics  in  other  languages  is  Analogy 
a  source  from  which  illustration  of  the  Homeric  question  °ar°the' 
has  been  sought.     But  the  history  of  such  epics  is  often  epics, 
itself  more  or  less  obscure.    And,  from  the  nature  of  the  case, 
the   only  illustration    which   can   be   expected   is    of   the 
most  general  kind.      Before  any  definite  solution  of  the 
Homeric    problem   could    derive    scientific    support    from 
such   analogies,  it  would   be  necessary  to   show  that   the 
particular   conditions    under   which    the    Homeric   poems 

auburn  ({euro's),  in  16.  176  it  is  dark  (Kvdveos), — as  also  in  6.  231, 
unless  the  vaidvOivov  ai/0os  is  an  image  merely  for  curliness,  not 
for  colour.  Note  that,  on  Kirchhoff's  view,  this  would  be  a  case  of 
the  author  of  the  'sequel'  contradicting  himself;  for  both  13.  399  and 
16.  176  are  his. 

1  Eniwickclitng der  homcrischen  Pocsie  (Berlin,  1882),  pp.  222  ff. 

9—2 


132  HOMER.  [CH.   IV. 

appear  in  early  Greece  had  been  reproduced  with  sufficient 
closeness  elsewhere.  Still,  it  is  necessary  for  the  student  of 
Homer  to  know  the  general  scope  of  such  comparisons, 
if  only  in  order  to  control  the  arguments  drawn  from  them. 
Among  the  early  epics  which  offer  some  general  resemblance 
to  the  Homeric  poems,  the  following  are  the  principal. 

27.  (i)     The  Mahabhdrata   and  the  Rdmdyana.     Of 
these  two   great  Sanscrit  epics,  the  latter   has  been   com- 
pared to  the  Odyssey,  because   (a)  the  interest  is  concen- 
trated upon   a  single   hero,  Rama;   and  (b)  the    structure 
has  greater  unity1.     The  Mahabhdrata,  on  the  other  hand, 
so   far    resembles   the   Iliad  that   (a)   the   heroic   interest 
is   more   divided,    and   (b}    there   are    stronger    traces   of 
its   having   been   put  together,   at   least   to   some   extent, 
from    parts   originally   distinct,    and    of    different    dates2. 
As  the  Odyssey  is  now  generally  believed  to  be,  as  a  whole, 
later  than  the  Iliad,  so,  according  to  one  view,  the  Ramd- 
yana is  later  than  the  greater  part  of  the  Mahabhdrata. 

28.  (2)  The  early  French  romances  of  chivalry,  or  'Chan- 
sons de  Geste.'   These,  which  are  traced  back  to  the  eleventh 
century,  represent  'the  earliest  form  which  finished  litera- 
ture took  in  France3,'  just  as  the  Homeric  poems  stand  at 
the  beginning  of  Greek  literature.     Like  Homer,  they  were 
a  native  growth.     Like  Homer,  they  were  recited.      The 
composer,  or  'trouvere,'  was  usually  a  distinct  person  from 
the  reciter,  or  'jongleur,'  who  corresponded  to  the  Greek 
rhapsode.     As  a  type  of  the  'Chansons  de  Geste'  may  be 
taken  the   Chanson   de   Roland,  of  the   eleventh   century, 
which    is    a    sort    of   French    Achilleid.     It   opens   when 
Charlemagne  has  been  warring  for  seven  years  against  the 
Saracens  in  Spain ,  and  after  its  hero,  the  French  Roland,. 

1  As  Grote  says  that  the  Odyssey  was  'moulded  at  one  projection,' 
so    Lassen  (Indisch.  Alth.   i.  584)  says  that  the  Ramayana  is  « from 
a  single  mould '  (aus  einem  Gusse). 

2  '  Es  kann  keine  Frage  seyn,  dass  wir  im  Mahabharata  Stiicke  aus 
sehr  verschiedenen  Zeiten,  wie  sehr  verschieden  an  Inhalt  und  Farbe- 
vor  uns  haben '  (Lassen  I.e.). 

3  Saintsbury,  Short  History  of  French  Literature,  ch.  II.  p.  10. 


CH.  IV.]  THE   HOMERIC   QUESTION.  133 

has  been  slain  in  the  Pyrenees,  the  poem  relates  the  doom 
of  a  false  knight  who  had  betrayed  him  to  death.  The 
'Chansons  de  Geste,'  it  has  been  supposed,  had  been  pre- 
ceded by  short  historical  ballads  called  'cantilenae,'  which 
were  worked  up  in  the  'Chansons.'  But  the  'cantilenae' 
are  lost;  and  the  theory  lacks  good  evidence1.  Were  it 
otherwise,  then  the  'cantilenae'  would  have  been  analo- 
gous to  the  short  heroic  lays  (*A«'a  dvSpwv)  which  appear 
to  have  preceded  the  Homeric  epics. 

29.  (3)    The   poetic  Edda   of  Iceland*.      This   is   a 
collection  of  poems,    most  of  which  date  probably  from 
the    8th    or    Qth    century,    some   of    them   being    merely 
fragments   of    longer    heroic    lays   which   are   not   extant. 
They    deal    with    the    myths    and    religious    legends    of 
early   Scandinavian    civilisation.     But   they   do    not   form 
a   single   epic.     Gathered,    probably,    from   oral   tradition, 
long  after  they  were  composed,  they  were  thrown  together, 
in  a  body  which  has  no  poetical   unity,  about    noo  A.D. 
Thus,  if  any  inference  could  properly  be  drawn  from  the 
Edda,  it  would  be  that  short  separate  poems  on  cognate 
subjects  can  long  exist  as  a  collection,  without  coalescing 
into  such  an  artistic  whole  as  the  Iliad  or  the  Odyssey. 

30.  (4)    The  Nibelungenlied  (or  Der  Nibelunge  Not9}. 
As  the  Homeric  poems  give  an  artistic  form  to  older  legends, 
so  the  German  romantic  epic  is  only  the  final  shape  of  a 

1  The  Homeric  theories  of  Wolf  and  his  followers  suggested  similar 
theories  in  regard  to  the  Chansons  de  Geste,  as  M.  Paul  remarks 
(Rechcrches  sur  r  Epopee  f ran  false,  p.  65). 

3  The  name  Edda  is  borne  by  two  entirely  distinct  bodies  of  ancient 
Icelandic  writings.  One  is  the  poetic  Edda  noticed  above.  The  other, 
to  which  the  name  is  more  anciently  and  properly  given,  is  the  prose 
Edda,  a  miscellaneous  collection  of  writings,  ascribed  to  Snorri 
Sturluson,  the  most  eminent  of  early  Scandinavian  writers,  and  probably 
completed  about  1111.  See  Mr  F.  W.  Gosse  in  the  Encyd.  Brit. 
(9th  ed.)  vol.  vu.  p.  649. 

8  The  Nibelungen  are  a  race  of  mysterious  and  supernatural  beings. 
Siegfried,  the  hero  of  the  poem,  has  carried  off  a  great  treasure  of  gold 
and  gems  from  two  princes  of  the  Nibelungen-land,  to  whom  it  had 
been  bequeathed  by  their  father,  the  king  Nibelung.  The  subject 


134  HOMER.  [CH.  IV. 

Teutonic  saga  which  had  appeared  in  many  earlier  forms. 
So  far,  Lachmann's  view  (1816)  was  plausible,  that  it  had 
been  put  together  about  1210  A.D.  from  twenty  old  ballads. 
But  the  view  now  generally  received  is  that  of  Prof.  K.  Bartsch. 
The  Nibelungenlied  was  written,  by  one  man,  about  1140, — 
the  lines  ending  in  assonances,  not  in  rhymes.  About  1170 
another  poet  partially  introduced  rhyme  instead  of  assonance : 
and  between  1190  and  1200  this  process  was  completed,  in 
two  distinct  recensions,  by  two  different  hands.  One  of 
these  has  preserved  the  original  form  more  closely  than 
the  other1.  Thus,  if  we  could  argue  at  all  from  the  case  of 
the  Nibelungenlied,  the  argument  would  tell  against  the 
Wolfians,  and  in  favour  of  such  a  view  as  that  of  Nitzsch, 
described  above. 

31.  (5)  The  Kalewala  of  Finland.  This  is  a  kind 
of  epic  poem,  called  from  'Kaleva,'  a  happy  land,  three 
heroes  of  which  struggle  against  foes  from  the  land  of 
cold  and  the  land  of  death.  It  was  the  Kalewala  that 
suggested  Longfellow's  Hiawatha.  It  embodies  the  old 
folk-lore  of  the  Finns,  and  existed  only  in  scattered  songs, 
preserved  by  memory  alone,  until  they  were  collected  and 
written  down  early  in  this  century.  Dr  E.  Lonnrot,  the 
chief  collector,  published  12,000  verses  in  1835,  and  in 
1849  a  new  edition  of  22,793*.  Here,  then,  is  a  case 
seemingly  in  favour  of  Lachmann — Dr  Lonnrot  answering 
to  Peisistratus  or  his  commission.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  texture  of  the  Kalewala  is  said  to  be  of  a  very  loose 
kind:  it  has  not  unity  of  plot  in  at  all  the  same  sense  as  the 
///ad?  and  the  Odyssey  have  it3.  The  Kalewala  could  not, 

of  the  epic  is  the  '  doom  '  or  curse  which  this  enchanted  hoard  brings 
on  its  possessor,  as  exemplified  in  the  ill-starred  loves  of  Siegfried  and 
the  heroine  Kriemhild,  and  in  the  sequel  thereof. 

1  See  Mr.  James  Sime  in  Encycl.  Brit.  (9th  ed.)  vol.  XVII.  p.  476. 

8  See  Mr.  J.  S.  Keltic,  in  Encycl.  Brit.  (Qth  ed.)  vol.  ix.  p.  siy. 

3  '  It  has  none  of  the  unity  of  structure  which  we  find  in  Homer, 
but  ranges  over  the  whole  life  of  the  hero,  from  his  birth  to  his 
disappearance  in  extreme  old  age ' :  Mr.  Monro  in  Journal  of  Philo- 
logy, vol.  XI.  p.  59. 


CH.  IV.]  THE    HOMERIC   QUESTION.  135 

of  course,  be  cited  as  an  instance  of  an  epic  arising  from  a 
fortuitous  or  spontaneous  aggregation  of  songs:  the  editor 
would  naturally  seek  to  give  them  such  unity  as  he  could. 
And  it  further  fails  to  prove  that  mere  combining  and 
editing  can  form  an  artistic  whole  out  of  originally  distinct 
songs,  even  though  concerned  with  closely-related  themes. 

32.  (6)     The  Persian  epic,  the  Shahnamah,  or  'Book  of 
Kings,'  is  a  history  of  Persia  in  60,000  verses,  based  on  old 
popular  legends1.    It  is  wholly  the  work  of  Firdousi  (a  name 
assumed  by  Abu  '1  Casim  Mansdr),  who  completed  it  in 
1009  A.D.      It  claims  notice  here  as  supplying  perhaps  the 
fairest  illustration  for  the  ancient  view  of  the  Homeric  epics 
as  wholly  the  work  of  one  man,  in  this  respect — that  the 
Shahnamah  became  the  popular  national  epic  of  Persia 
almost  as  the  Homeric  poems  became  the  national  epics  of 
Greece. 

33.  (7)    The  early  war-poetry  of  England.     In   such 
pieces  as  the  'Battle  Song  of  Brunanburh'  (937  A.D.)  and 
the  '•Song  of  the  Fight  at  Afaldon'  (991  A.D.)  there   are 
several   traits  which   might  remind  us  of  Homer2.      The 
Maldon  song  is  about  as  long  as  one  book  of  the  Iliad.     If 
twenty-four  such  songs  had  grown  into  one  English  epic, 
taking  unity  from  a  central  theme,  that  would  have  been  an 
English  Iliad.     According  to  the  primary  relation  of  the 
songs  to  each  other,   it   would   have   offered   an   analogy 
favourable  to  the  view  of  Wolf,  of  Hermann,  or  of  Lach- 
mann.     But  in  our  country,  as  in  others,  we  fail  to  find  any 
true  parallel  to  the  case  of  the  Homeric  poems.     These 
poems  must  be  studied  in  themselves,  without  looking  for 
aid,  in  this  sense,  to  the  comparative  method. 

1  See  the  article  on  Firdousi,  by  the  late  Prof.  E.  H.  Palmer, 
in  the  Encycl.  Brit,  (pth  ed.)  vol.  ix.  p.  335. 

*  Referring  to  the  Song  of  Maldon,  Mr.  Stopford  Brooke  says : — 
'  In  the  speeches  of  heralds  and  warriors  before  the  fight,  in  the  speeches 
and  single  combats  of  the  chiefs,  in  the  loud  laugh  and  mock  which 
follow  a  good  death-stroke,  in  the  rapid  rush  of  the  verse  when 
the  battle  is  joined,  the  poem,  though  broken, — as  Homer's  verse 
is  not, — is  Homeric.'  (Primer  of  English  Literature,  p.  15.) 


136  HOMER.  [CH.  IV. 

There  are  only  two  sources  from  which  we  can  hope 
for  any  real  light  on  their  origin.  One  is  their  subject- 
matter,  of  which  an  outline  has  been  given  in  Chapter  II. 
The  other  is  their  language. 

Homeric  34.  The  general  character  of  Homeric  language — that 
language.  wnich  js  common  to  Iliad  and  Odyssey — attests  the  high  anti- 
quity of  the  poems.  The  dialect  of  Homer  is  Ionic.  In  the 
fifth  century  B.C.  there  is  the  Ionic  of  Herodotus,  while  a 
kindred,  though  distinct,  dialect  has  taken  a  mature  form  in 
the  Attic  literature.  A  comparison  of  Homer's  Ionic  with 
the  fifth-century  Ionic  and  Attic  shows  differences  of  two 
classes.  One  class  is  concerned  with  the  forms  of  words : 
the  other,  with  their  arrangement  in  sentences.  And  these 
differences  are  not  merely  matters  of  detail  or  of  caprice. 
They  are  such  as  to  show  that  Homer's  Ionic  belongs  to  an 
earlier  stage  in  the  development  of  the  language1.  In  order 
to  give  time  for  such  changes,  it  is  necessary  to  allow  an 
interval  of  at  least  two  or  three  centuries.  That  is,  the 
stamp  of  Homeric  language,  as  a  whole,  indicates  that  we 
should  place  the  Homeric  poems  not  later  than  about 
800 — 700  B.C. 

Tradi-  35.     But  the   Ionic   of  Homer  cannot  have  been  the 

epi^ele-  sP°^en  dialect  of  one  time.  It  comprises  too  great  a  number 
ment.  of  alternative  forms  for  even  the  commonest  words2.  The 
Homeric  poet  used  the  spoken  Ionic  of  his  own  day;  but, 
besides  this,  he  used  also  an  element  of  earlier  Ionic  as  it 
came  to  him  in  the  traditional  diction  of  poetry.  At  a  very 
early  date — how  early,  we  do  not  know — Ionic  became  the 
accepted  dialect  of  epic  poetry  for  all  Greeks,  as  Tuscan 
became  the  literary  dialect  for  all  Italians.  Some  forms 
occur  in  Homer  which  are  Aeolic.  It  is  possible  that  these 
forms  may  have  been  adopted  into  Ionic,  as  the  national 

1  See  Note  at  the  end  of  the  book. 

2  e.g.  fli>cu,  Z/J-ev,  ZnfJifv,  ^/j.eva.L,?fj./j.evai:  vrjvcrl,  vr^a-ffi,  i>av<pi:  7r6Xe<s, 
TrdXtes,  TroXijes:  TTO\\JV,  irovMv,  TroXXoc:  TroX^es,  TroXets,  iro\\ot: 

HrjXe/Sew,    ILyXe/Sao :     'AxtX^t,    'A^iXX^t,    'AxiXXei: 
vvi,  /eiWcrcri:  vites,  wej :  etc. 


CH.  IV.]  THE    HOMERIC   QUESTION.  137 

dialect  for  epic  poetry,  from  old  Aeolian  lays.  But  it  is  also 
possible  that  they  originally  belonged  to  the  old  Ionic  itself, 
as  well  as  to  the  old  Aeolic.  The  only  thing  certain  about 
such  forms  is  that  they  are  very  old1.  They  were  part 
of  an  epic  style  which  the  Ionic  poets  inherited. 

36.  And  the  presence  of  this  traditional  element  might  False  ar- 
easily  have  a  further  result.  A  poet  using  words  or  phrases  cnaisms> 
which  lived  only  in  epic  convention  would  be  apt  to  coin 
similar  forms  by  analogy.  In  doing  this,  he  would  not  be 
controlled  by  the  instinct  of  living  speech;  and  in  those  days 
there  was  no  scientific  philology  to  keep  him  right.  Analogy, 
then,  might  prove  a  misleading  guide.  The  forms  which  he 
devised, — believing  them  to  be  warranted  by  similar  old 
forms, —  might  happen  to  be  incorrect.  This  would  be  the 
origin  of  'false  archaisms.'  There  are  undoubtedly  some 
'false  archaisms'  in  Homer*,  though  probably  not  so  many 
as  some  critics  have  assumed*.  But  it  is  well  to  mark  the 

1  Such  Homeric  forms  as  tf&v,  viffvpes,  defies,  Sftfiet  or  vftfi.es,  are 
Aeolic ;  rttr,  riivi),  etc. ,  Doric.  See,  on  this  subject,  Mr  Monro's 
papers,  'Traces  of  different  Dialects  in  the  language  of  Homer' 
(Journ.  of  Philology,  ix.  p.  251),  and  '  Further  Notes  on  Homeric 
Subjects'  (it.  vol.  xi.  p.  56). 

*  Thus  virb  Kpd.rtff<pi  (//.  10. 156)  = 'under  his  head,'  Kpdrc<T<f>t  being 
formed  on  the  analogy  of  <rTq9e<r<f>i  (from  the  stem  ffTrjOes  of  orf/Oas), 
and  meant  for  the  dat.  sing.  (Kparl) :  but  this  is  incorrect,  since  the  stem 
is  not  KpctTfs,  but  icpar.     So  (ib.  361)  i-n-elytTov,  if  meant  for  the  3rd 
pers.  dual  subjunctive  (as  trpoOerjffi  in  363  suggests)  is  wrong,   since 
Homer  has  t\  in  the  subjunct.  where  the  indie,  has  e.     Again  (ib.  346) 
irapcupdalijoi  is  meant  for  the  optat.  irapa.<j>6air},  but  is  wrongly  formed 
on  the  analogy  of  subjunctives  in  -pat.     These  false  archaisms  in  //.  10. 
confirm  the  relative  lateness  of  the  book,  but  only  with  the  reserve 
indicated  above.     In  //.  15.  415,  iflffa.ro,  *he  went,'  may,  as  Curtius 
thought  (Princ.  ii.  207),  be  a  false  archaism,  suggested  by  the  analogy 
of  iffiaa.ro,  'seemed'  (Od.  i.  320)  :  but  this  is  doubtful.   Wackernagel's 
view  is  that  it  is  merely  an  error  for  ^ijcraro,  which  he  would  identify 
with  Sanscr.  aydsat  (Monro  Gr.  §  401  n.). 

*  False  archaisms  have  a  large  place  in  Prof.  Paley's  theory, — that 
•our  Iliad  and  Odyssey  were  put  together  only  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
^th  century  B.C.,  from  the  large  mass  of  ballad  literature  which  Pindar 
and  the  Tragics  know  of  in  their  entirety '  (Pref.  to  Iliad,  vol.  II.  p.  xxi). 


138  HOMER.  [CH.   IV. 

limit  of  the  inference  which  can  be  drawn  from  such  in- 
stances. It  has  sometimes  been  argued  that  a  'false 
archaism'  proves  the  passage  in  which  it  occurs  to  be 
altogether  later  than  the  age  of  Ionian  epos, — as  late  (say) 
as  450 — 400  B.  c.  This  inference  is  unsound.  The  pos- 
sibility of  false  archaisms  began  as  soon  as  there  were 
genuine  archaisms.  False  archaisms  might  have  been  made 
in  800  or  900  B.  c.,  as  easily  as  in  450  B.  c.,  by  an  Ionian 
poet  who  found  in  the  traditional  epic  diction  certain 
forms  or  phrases  which  no  longer  existed  in  the  living 
idiom  of  his  day. 

Dif-  37-     So  far,  we  have  been  considering  the  general  stamp 

ferences  of  Homeric  language,  as  seen  in  both  the  great  epics.     But 

between 

Iliad       the  language  of  the  Odyssey  has  certain  traits  of  its  own, 

and         which  indicate  that,  as  a  whole,  it  is  later  than  that  of  the 
Odyssey. 

Iliad.     It  is  not  safe  to  lay  much  stress  on  mere  differences 

of  vocabulary  in  the  two  poems.  The  Iliad  deals  chiefly 
with  war-scenes,  the  Odyssey  with  adventurous  travel  or 
domestic  life.  We  should  naturally  expqct  a  corresponding 
difference  in  the  classes  of  words  used.  Further,  many 
differences  might  be  due  to  local  or  personal  causes  rather 
than  to  separation  in  time.  Perhaps  the  only  argument 
from  vocabulary  that  has  any  force  is  the  greater  frequency 
in  the  Odyssey  of  words  which  interpret  the  religious  or 
moral  sense1.  But  the  evidence  of  syntax  is  more  sig- 
nificant. The  Odyssey  has  a  number  of  constructions 
and  usages  which  distinguish  it  from  the  Iliad.  They 

1  As  to  these,  see  p.  55,  n.  i.  It  is  not  strange  that  in  the  Odyssey 
alone  should  be  found  larii\,  X^x??  (a  place  where  men  meet  to  talk,  in 
Mod.  Greek  =  ' club'),  x^pvi^  (water  for  washing  the  hands),  di)/j.toepyh 
(one  who  plies  a  peaceful  calling).  Nor  is  it  strange  that  0o/3os  ('  flight') 
and  priyvvju  ('to  break'), — so  frequent  in  the  Iliad  battle-scenes,  should 
occur  only  once  each  in  the  Odyssey.  Words  afterwards  so  common 
as  t<r6r)S,  xP"hlMTa  ('property')  occur  only  in  the  Odyssey,  and  this  is 
perhaps  more  significant.  Airis  and  Sd£a  occur  only  in  the  Odyssey, 
except  that  dofrs  occurs  once  in  //.  10.  324,  a  book  which  has  other 
non-Iliadic  words  in  common  with  the  Odyssey,  as  SoVis,  <J>TJ/MS,  Sairt], 


CH.  IV. J  THE   HOMERIC   QUESTION.  139 

fall  chiefly  under  the  following  heads',  (i)  Uses  of  preposi- 
tions. (2)  Uses  of  the  article,  of  pronouns,  conjunctions, 
particles,  and  adverbs.  (3)  Dependent  clauses.  In  regard 
to  metre,  again  some  distinctive  points  may  be  noticed*. 

38.  These  characteristics  of  the  Odyssey  are  either 
wholly  absent  from  the  Iliad,  or  occur  only  in  a  limited  area 
of  it,  which  is  almost  always  confined  to  books  9,  10,  23, 
24 ;  books  which,  as  we  saw,  have  been  held,  on  other 
grounds,  to  be  later  than  most  of  the  others.  The  late- 
ness which  these  particular  traits  argue  is,  however,  only 
relative.  There  is  nothing  in  them  which  is  not  con- 
sistent with  the  earliest  date  which  could,  on  other  grounds, 
be  claimed  for  the  Odyssey  as  a  whole.  They  do  not  affect 
the  generally  ancient  stamp  which  its  language  shares  with 
that  of  the  Iliad.  Their  effect  is  only  to  draw  certain 
limited  parts  of  the  Iliad  nearer  to  the  Odyssey.  They 
strengthen  the  probability  that  some  interval  of  time  must 
be  supppsed  between  the  bulk  of  the  Iliad  and  those  parts 
of  it  which  here  exhibit  a  marked  affinity  with  the  Odyssey. 

•?Q.     Homeric  metre  exhibits  traces  of  certain  sounds  or  Lost 

, 

letters  which  were  unknown  to  the  Ionic  of  the  historical sc 
age.     In  one  very  common  word  (o!?)  we  see  the  metrical 
influence  of  a  lost  initial^3.     A  few  instances,  though  these 

1  See  Note  at  the  end  of  the  book. 

2  (i)     A  pause  in  the  verse  sometimes  excuses  the  non-elision  of  a 
vowel  (hiatus),  and  one  case  of  this  is  when  the  beginning  of  the  5th 
foot  coincides  with  the  beginning  of  a  word  :  as  Od.  i.  57  fiXatrivd^ovffii' 
irlvovai   re  \  aWoira.   otvov.     This  division    of    the  verse  is   calleci    the 
'  bucolic  diaeresis,'  because  especially  characteristic  of  the  hexameter  in 
pastoral  poetry.     Hiatus  in   this  bucolic   diaeresis   is  about   twice  as 
frequent  in  the  Od.  as  in  the  //.     So  also  is  hiatus  after  the  vowel  e. 
In  both  these  metrical  points,  however,  books  23  and  24  of  the  Iliad 
show  an  affinity  with  the  Odyssey.     Monro  Gr.  §  382. 

8  By  the  lengthening  of  a  short  syllable  before  it,  as  //.  n.  58 
\lvtlLv  ff,  os/T/>uwi  0e6s  wj  rlfTo/Syfup  (as  though  it  were ySn).  This 
occurs  in  some  36  places,  but  the  exceptions  are  scarcely  less  numerous: 
as  //.  3.  196,  ovrAs  5£  KrlXot  wj  (where  Bentley  proposed  avrdp  ^(X6» 
tuv).  Monro  Horn.  Gr.  §  397.  Cp.  Peile,  Greek  a nd  Latin  Etymology, 
pp.  76,  229. 


140  HOMER.  [CH.  IV. 

are  more  doubtful,  suggest  the  similar  influence  of  a  lost 
The  di-  initial  a-1.  But  the  most  important  case  is  that  of  the  letter 
gamma.  vaU}  answering  in  sound  to  our  V  or  W.  The  character  for 
this  was  like  F,  or  one  Greek  F  placed  on  top  of  another  : 
hence  its  name,  'double  gamma',  'digammaV  This  was 
one  of  the  ordinary  letters  of  the  earliest  Greek  alphabet. 
It  occurs  in  Doric  inscriptions,  and  in  the  Aeolic  inscrip- 
tions of  Greece  Proper  (Boeotia,  Elis,  etc.),  though  not  in 
those  of  the  Asiatic  Aeolis.  For  the  existence  of  the  letter 
in  the  Ionic  alphabet,  the  evidence  is  very  slender  ;  in  any 
case,  it  ceased  to  be  used  in  Ionic  as  early,  at  least,  as 
500  B.C.*  Nor  is  there  any  evidence  that  the  letter  F  was 
ever  written  in  the  ancient  texts  of  Homer.  But  in 


1  As  ^TTt-oXyiiei'os  (salio),  <i,u<££-a\os  (sal),  &p.<j>l-eirov  (sequor),   K<XTCU<T- 

(for  -fficrxfTai),   ffvvexts    (as    if  for   ffvfffffx^,    Od.   5.    257),  and 
occasional  hiatus  before  v\rj,  VTTVOS,  &>'s  (silva,  somnus,  SUMS). 

2  Bentley  was  the  first  modern  scholar  who  recognised  the  presence 
of  the  digamma  in  Homeric  metre.     The  earliest  hint  of  his  discovery 
occurs  in  a  note  written  by  him,  in  1713,  on  a  blank  leaf  in  his  copy  of 
the  '  Discourse  of  Free-Thinking  '  '  by  Anthony  Collins'  (in  the  Library 
of  Trin.  Coll.,  Cambridge)  :  —  'Homer's  5lya/j.fj.a.  Aeolicum  to  be  added. 
oZVos,  folios,    vin3  :  a  Demonstration  of  this,  because  folios  has  always 
preceding  it  a  vowel  :  so  olvoiroTdfwv.  '     The  digamma  was  first  printed 
in  a  quotation  from  Homer  in  Bentley's  edition  of  Paradise  Lost  (1732), 
a  capital  F  being  used  :  whence  Pope's  lines  in  the  Dunciad  :  '  While 
tow'ring   o'er   your  alphabet,   like   Saul,  |  Stands   our  digamma,  and 
o'ertops   them   all.'     The   substance   of  Bentley's  ms.   notes  on    the 
digamma   was   published   in   Dr.  J.   W.    Donaldson's   New  Cratylus, 
Cp.  'Bentley,'  in  '  English  Men  of  Letters,'  pp.  149  —  154. 

8  In  the  Dorian  inscriptions  of  the  6th  and  5th  centuries  B.C.  f  is 
usually  retained  as  an  initial  letter,  even  where  it  is  neglected  in  the 
body  of  a  word.  The  Tabulae  Heradeenses  of  the  Dorian  Heraclea  in 
Magna  Graecia  (4th  cent.  B.C.)  show  the  t  retained  in  some  words,  and 
omitted  in  others.  For  F  in  the  Ionic  alphabet  the  chief  evidence  is  (i) 
one  word  in  a  Naxian  inscription  of  circ.  510  B.C.  :  (2)  three  names 
on  vases  found  in  Magna  Graecia,  and  said  to  have  come  from  Chalcis 
in  Euboea  :  (3)  the  name  of  the  town  Velia,  founded  by  lonians  of 
Phocaea.  The  earliest  Ionic  inscriptions  of  Euboea  itself  (6th  cent.  B.C.) 
show  no  trace  of  f  .  Tudeer,  De  digammo  pp.  5  ff.,  thinks  that  the 
loss  off  in  Ionic  happened  between  800  —  500  B.C.  (Monro,  Hom.  Gr. 


CH.    IV.]  THE   HOMERIC   QUESTION.  14! 

Homeric  verse  the  presence  of  the  sound  is  often  indicated. 
This  occurs  in  two  ways,  (i)  It  warrants  'hiatus:'  i.e. 
prevents  the  elision  of  a  vowel  before  another  vowel :  as 
H.  9.  128  dfivftova  epyo.  tSw'as.  Here  Ipya  and  tSvtas  are 
treated,  for  metrical  purposes,  as  if  they  were  written  werga 
widuias.  (2)  It  makes  'position:'  i.e.  it  lengthens  a  pre- 
ceding syllable  which  would  otherwise  have  been  short :  as 
//.  4.  182  oJs  TTore  TIS  fpffi,  where  TIS  is  lengthened  as  if 
followed  by  wereei. 

40.     Now,  if  these  effects  were  constant,  there  would  be  incon- 

less  difficulty.    We  should  then  have  to  suppose  that  a  fixed  stant  use 

,.  .  of  itm 

epic  tradition  compelled  the  poet  to  assume  the  sound  w  Homer, 

before  certain  words,  whether  that  sound  or  letter  was 
generally  used  in  his  day,  or  not.  But  we  find  that  the 
Homeric  use  fluctuates,  even  in  regard  to  the  same  words. 
The  digamma  does  not  always  prevent  elision,  or  lengthen 
a  short  syllable.  It  does  so  in  upwards  of  3300  places. 
It  fails  to  do  so  in  upwards  of  600  places1.  How  are  we 
to  explain  the  failures  ?  No  conclusive  answer  has  yet  been 
given  to  this  question*. 

1  This  is  the  reckoning  of  Prof.  W.  Hartel  (Homerische  Studien  in.), 
whose  results  are  given  by  Mr  Monro,  Horn.  Gr.  §  398.  Prof.  Hartel  s 
precise  figures  are  3354  against  617.  (i)  Of  the  3354  cases  in  which  f 
is  operative,  it  prevents  the  elision  of  a  short  vowel  in  2324  ;  in  507  it 
follows  a  long  vowel  or  diphthong  in  arsis ;  in  164  it  prevents  the 
shortening  of  a  diphthong  in  thesis ;  and  in  359  it  lengthens  a  short 
syllable  ending  in  a  consonant,  (2)  Of  the  617  cases  in  which  f  is 
inoperative,  it  fails  to  prevent  elision  in  324  :  it  permits  a  preceding 
long  vowel  or  diphthong  to  be  shortened  in  78  ;  and  it  fails  to  lengthen 
a  short  syllable  ending  in  a  consonant  in  215. 

a  The  principal  theories  which  have  been  broached  are  briefly  these, 
(i)  Bentley's: — All  places  where  f  is  ignored  are  corrupt.  This  theory 
is  too  sweeping.  But  it  is  true  that  initial  f  can  be  restored,  without 
violence,  to  a  very  large  proportion  of  places  in  those  parts  of  the  Iliad 
which  are  indisputably  old.  Medial  F,  too,  can  often  be  restored  to 
some  words  by  resolving  a  diphthong,  as  by  writing  <c6i\o$  for  *co«Xos 
(cp.  Curt.  Etym.  §  79),  'Arpttd^  for  'Arpe/Sijs.  (2)  f  was  going  out 
of  use,  and  so  words  which  originally  had  f  could  be  used  by  the 
poet  either  with  or  without  f.  There  were  alternative  forms.  In  the 
case,  however,  of  such  words  as  <u»a£,  curry,  tpyov,  ol/cos,  tSciv,  the 


142  HOMER.  [CH.   IV. 

One  thing,  at  least,  is  certain.  The  sound  of  the  di- 
gamma  was  known  as  a  living  sound  in  the  language  by  the 
first  Greeks  who  made  epic  verse,  whether  these  were 
lonians  or  not.  As  regards  the  use  in  Homer,  the  follow- 
ing points  appear  probable,  (i)  The  tradition  of  the 
digamma  in  epic  verse  had  come  down  to  Ionian  poets  in 
whose  own  day  the  sound  had  either  disappeared  from 
Ionic,  or  was  tending  to  disappear.  (2)  The  tradition 
was  felt  as  decidedly  more  binding  in  regard  to  some 
words  and  phrases  than  to  others,  perhaps  because  their 
association  with  the  digamma  was  traditionally  more  fa- 
miliar. (3)  Within  certain  limits,  and  without  absolutely 
rigid  exception  of  any  word,  the  Ionian  poet  was  free  to 
treat  the  digamma  as  a  trait  of  epic  style,  observing  or 
ignoring  it  as  metrical  convenience  prompted.  (4)  The 
tendency  to  observe  it  slightly  decreased  with  increasing 
distance  from  the  time  in  which  the  digamma  was  a  living 
sound  in  daily  speech1. 

Sup-  41.     It  has  been  supposed  that  some  of  the  Homeric 

errors  of^orms  which  present  difficulties  are  mere  blunders  of 
translit-  ancient  transcribers,  made  in  transliterating  Homer  from 
eration.  ^  ol(jer  Att"c  aiphahet  into  the  Ionic  alphabet,  after 

observance  of  f  is  more  frequent  than  the  neglect  in  the  ratio  of  about 
14  :  i.  (3)  *The  f  was  confined  to  certain  fixed  epic  phrases.  But 
it  is  found  also  in  words  which  occur  more  rarely  (trvs,  Ir4t],  apves 
etc.).  And  there  are  no  false  instances,  such  as  imitation  might 
generate.  (4)  Hiatus  before  any  word  which  once  had  f  was  an 
epic  survival.  But  this  does  not  explain  why  F  should  also  make 
position.'  (5)  Prof.  W.  Hartel's  theory,  f  was  neither  a  full  con- 
sonant nor  a  full  vowel,  but  something  between  the  two.  Used  as 
a  semi-consonant,  it  could  prevent  elision  or  shortening.  Used  as  a 
semi-vowel,  it  was  compatible  with  either.  Hence  the  Homeric 
inconstancy  of  use  would  be  only  apparent :  the  observance  of  f  would 
be  really  universal. 

1  As  applied  to  different  parts  of  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey, 
this  test  hardly  yields  any  results  on  which  stress  can  be  laid. 
But  in  the  Homeric  'hymns,'  which  belong  chiefly  to  circ.  750 — 
500  B.C.,  the  neglect  of  p  is  decidedly  more  frequent  than  in  the  Iliad 
or  the  Odyssey. 


CH.  IV.]  THK   HOMERIC   QUESTION.  143 

it  had  been  formally  adopted  at  Athens  in  403  B.C.  '  But  it 
is  very  doubtful  whether  any  errors  have  really  been  due  to 
this  cause*. 

Whatever  disturbing  causes  may  have  affected  Homeric 
tradition,  at  least  they  have  not  affected  the  general  com- 
plexion of  Homeric  language.  Its  essential  characteristics 
can  still  be  recognised  with  certainty.  It  shows  that  the 
Iliad  and  the  Odyssey,  viewed  as  a  whole,  belong  to  an 
early  age.  This  conclusion  would  remain  unshaken,  even 
if  assent  were  given  to  the  theory  lately  put  forward  with 
much  ingenuity  by  Prof.  Fick. 

42.     He  believes  that  the  Homeric  poems  existed  in  a  Pick's 
purely  Aeolic  dialect  down  to  about  530 — 500  B.C.,  when  l 
they  were  translated  into  Ionic8.     The  author  of  'the  Ionic 
redaction '  was  Cynaethus,  a  rhapsode  of  Chios,  the  reputed 
author  of  the  hymn  to  the  Delian  Apollo.     According  to 
the  scholiast  on  Pindar,  Nem.  2.  i,  Cynaethus  was  the  first 
who  recited  '  Homer's  poems '  at  Syracuse,  about  the  6gth 
olympiad  (504  B.  c.).     At  the  time  when  the  Aeolic  Homer 
was   thus   turned  into  Ionic,  or  shortly  afterwards,   Ionic 

1  Thus  Curtius  thinks  that  such  Homeric   infinitives  as   <f>vyteii', 
Idtciv,  should  be  <j>vytfi>,  Idtev,  and  that  the  error  arose  from  the  Attic 
transliterators  (ol  /j.fTax.apa.KTt)pl£ovTes)  supposing  that  the  second  E  in 
<t>1TEEN,   etc.,   was   Ionic  for   El.     Similarly  he  suspects   that   irjv 
should  be  tev,  from  EEN.     Greek  Verb  II.  in  (p.  348  Eng.  tr.). 

2  As  a  fact  limiting  the  possible  range  of  such  errors,  it  should 
be  noted   that  in   the   Ionic  alphabet   E   represented  et   only   when 
the  latter  was  'spurious,'  i.e.  came  from  e  +  e,  or  e-fa  compensatory 
lengthening  (as  in  ENAI  for  clvcu).     '  Genuine '    et,  from  e  + 1,  was 
written  El   (except   sometimes  before  vowels).     Hence  (e.g.)  idaaro 
would  have  been  written  EEI2ATO,  not  EESATO.    So  0  represented 
ou  only  when  due  to  o+o,  or  o  +  compensatory  lengthening:  not  when 
due  to  o  +  v.     Cp.  Meisterhans,  Grammatik  der  Attischen  Inschriften 
p.  ii  (1885). 

*  Fick  (/lias,  p.  xxxin,  1885)  quotes  Ritschl  as  expressing  a  similar 
view  so  long  ago  as  1834.  Ritschl's  view,  however, — as  the  quotation 
shows, — was  essentially  different.  He  thought  that  Homer  went  over 
from  Greece  with  the  Aeolian  emigrants,  and  composed  short  Aeolic 
lays  at  Smyrna.  Then  a  series  of  Ionian  poets  enlarged  and  lonicised 
them.  But  this  process  was  complete  before  776  B.C. 


144  HOMER.  [CH.   IV. 

additions  were  made  to  both  epics.  Fick  dwells  on  the 
fact  that  in  the  undoubtedly  old  parts  of  Homer  we  find 
Aeolic  forms  which  could  not  have  been  metrically  replaced 
by  the  corresponding  Ionic  forms,  and  which  were  therefore 
retained  by  the  Ionic  translator.  Conversely,  in  the  later 
parts,  which  were  Ionic  from  the  first,  we  find  forms  which 
metrically  resist  .Aeolicising.  His  theory  suggests  the 
following  remarks. 

Estimate  43-  (i)  The  first  question  which  has  to  be  decided  is, 
of  it.  'What  is  Aeolic,  or  Ionic?'  In  regard  to  alleged  'Aeo- 
lisms'  in  Homer,  Fick  has  to  prove,  not  only  that  they 
were  Aeolic,  but  also  that  they  were  not  old  Ionic.  We 
have  no  sufficient  evidence  as  to  the  state  of  the  Greek 
dialects  drc.  900 — 600  B.C.  The  Aeolic  inscriptions  are  all 
later  than  the  fifth  century  B.  c.  The  Ionic  evidence, 
though  less  scanty,  is  not  less  inadequate  for  this  purpose. 
It  was  the  habit  of  the  ancient  grammarians  to  set  down 
any  Homeric  archaism  as  an  'Aeolism,'  if  it  happened  to 
exist  in  Aeolic  also,  and  sometimes  even  when  it  did  not. 
The  digamma  itself  was  long  called  '  Aeolic,'  and  regarded 
as  peculiarly  belonging  to  that  dialect, — an  error,  as  we 
now  know.  Hinrichs1  has  greatly  reduced  the  number  of 
Aeolisms  in  Homer.  Further  scrutiny  may  perhaps  reduce 
it  still  more2. 

1  De  Homericae  elocutionis  vestigiis  Aeolicis  (Jena,  1875). 

3  In  the  Philologus  (XLIII.  r.  i — 31)  Karl  Sittl  has  examined  the 
residuum  of  Homeric  'Aeolisms'  left  by  Hinrichs.  His  results  are 
epitomized  by  M.  W.  Humphreys  in  Amer.  Journ.  Phil.  V.  521. 
Thus  :  (i)  He  eliminates  from  the  'Aeolisms  '  those  which  do  not  even 
occur  in  Aeolic.  E-g.,  the  'Aeolic '  v  (for  o)  has  been  unduly  extended. 
It  occurred  only  in  the  Aeolic  vi  —  ot  of  the  locative  (also  Doric).  (2) 
Fick  assumes  an  Aeolic  uef/cocri  as  parent  of  the  Homeric  ielKoai. 
When  /  preceded  by  a  consonant  began  a  word,  all  Greeks  sometimes 
prefixed  e  (as  if  we  had  tdfeiKoei).  But,  felKoffi,  having  lost  its  initial 
5,  was  no  longer  entitled  to  an  initial  e.  The  Homeric  tfelicoai  was  a 
false  formation  on  the  analogy  of  words  which  had  not  lost  the  con- 
sonant before  /.  The  Aeolians  never  vocalised  initial  f.  The  apparent 
examples  are  all  aspirated,  and  not  Aeolic.  (3)  As  to  long  d,  the 
non-Ionic  uses  of  it  in  Homer  are  almost  confined  to  proper  names 


CH.  IV.  J  THE   HOMERIC   QUESTION.  145 

44.  (2)  Pick's  view  implies  that  the  Ionic  version,  made 
about  530 — 500  B.  c.,  at  once  and  for  ever  superseded  in 
general  favour  the  original  Aeolic  Homer,  though  the  latter 
had  been  familiar  throughout  Hellas  for  generations.  This 
is  incomprehensible.  And,  supposing  that  this  happened, 
can  we  further  suppose  that  ancient  literature  would  fiave 
preserved  no  reference  to  the  fact  of  the  transcription  which, 
at  a  blow,  had  robbed  the  Aeolian  race  of  its  most  glorious 
inheritance, — one  which,  for  so  long  a  period,  all  Greeks 
had  publicly  recognised  as  belonging  to  it?  There  were 
flourishing  Aeolian  states  then,  and  Aeolian  writers.  To 
take  a  rough  parallel,  suppose  that  at  the  present  day  an 
Englishman  should  clothe  the  poems  of  Robert  Burns  in 
an  English  dress :  would  the  transcription  be  likely  to  super- 
sede the  Scottish  original  as  the  standard  form  of  the  poems 
throughout  the  English-speaking  world?  Yet  this  is  what 
Pick  supposes  the  Ionic  Cynaethus  to  have  accomplished  in 
the  case  of  the  Aeolic  Homer.1  The  unexampled  success  of 
Cynaethus  becomes  still  more  astounding  when  we  observe 
how  limited  his  poetical  skill  is  assumed  to  have  been.  He 
left  a  great  many  Aeolisms  in  his  Homer.  Why  ?  Because 
their  direct  Ionic  equivalents  would  not  scan. 

But  the  fact  is  that  the  Pindaric  scholium  is  an  utterly 

taken  from  old  lays.  Many  seeming  examples  can  be  explained  :  thus 
apiffTov  (//.  24.  124)  should  be  dftpiffrov  (like  dflKovre)  :  5o\dj  (//.  13. 
320)  should  be  dafe\6s.  (4)  Pronouns.  roi,  retv,  Tvvrj,  reds,  d/t/xos,  are 
admittedly  archaisms.  This  may  be  true  also  of  the  'Aeolic'  OMA»«» 
i7/ijtes  (etc.),  if  once  written  d/j.pts  (or  d/x/^s),  v/x^j  (=jv<r/j.4s),  whence, 
by  suppression  and  compensation  w^s,  vWs»  and  by  analogy  i^es 
(i7/ictj),  v/j^et  (vfjiets).  These  are  only  specimens  of  Sittl's  analysis.  It 
may  be  added  that  Hinrichs  was  not  slow  to  make  a  vigorous  reply. 

1  Prof.  Fick  appeals  to  instances  of  inscriptions,  or  other  short  pieces, 
presumably  composed  in  a  dialect  different  from  that  in  which  they 
have  come  down  to  us.  For  example,  he  thinks  that  the  couplet  of 
Simonides  on  the  Peloponnesians  slain  at  Thermopylae  (Her.  7.  328) 
was  originally  in  the  Laconian  dialect,  thus:  pvptaaiv  TTOKO.  Trjdt 
Tpia.Ka.Tia.Ls  tfiaxpvTQ  \  tic  He\oTroin>dffu  x^'a^ts  Ttropfs.  Between  such 
cases,  and  the  lonicising  of  Homer  by  Cynaethus,  the  difference,  he 
says,  is  only  'one  of  degree'  (/Has  p.  ix).  But  surely  it  is  also  a 
difference  of  kind. 


146  HOMER.  [CH.   IV. 

insufficient  basis  on  which  to  build  the  hypothesis  about 
Cynaethus.  And  it  would  be  easy  to  show  that  Homer  had 
been  known  in  Ionic  from  an  earlier  date.  Simonides  of 
Ceos  was  born  556  B.C.,  and  was  therefore  already  of  mature 
age  at  the  time  when  the  supposed  'Ionic  redaction'  was 
made.  The  Homer  known  to  his  boyhood  and  youth  must 
then,  according  to  Fick,  have  been  Aeolic.  But  he  quotes 
//.  6.  148  (one  of  the  certainly  older  parts  of  the  epic),  in 
Ionic,  as  by  'the  man  of  Chios,'  meaning  Homer  ;  whom  he 
therefore  regarded  as  an  Ionian  poet.  It  will  hardly  be 
maintained  that  by  'the  man  of  Chios'  he  meant  his  con- 
temporary Cynaethus1. 

45.  (3)  The  pre-Homeric  epic  lays  were  doubtless 
Achaean.  Those  Homeric  forms  which  can  be  proved  to  have 
existed  in  post-Homeric  Aeolic  admit  of  two  different  explan- 
ations, which  do  not,  however,  necessarily  exclude  each  other. 
One  of  them  may  apply  to  some  instances,  and  the  other  to 
others,  (i)  These  forms,  or  some  of  them,  may  have 
belonged  also  to  an  older  Ionic.  Those  who  deny  this 
have  to  prove  the  negative,  (ii)  If  originally  peculiar  to 
Achaean  (or  old  Aeolic),  such  forms  may  have  been 
adopted  by  old  Ionian  poetry  because  they  were  asso- 
ciated, through  Achaean  lays,  with  epic  composition.  Pick's 
theory  of  the  late  and  wholesale  transcription  is  altogether 
incredible2.  But,  whether  the  original  Homeric  dialect 
was  Achaean  or  old  Ionic,  it  may  be  granted  that  it  had 
undergone  modifying  influences  at  the  hands  of  Ionian  poets 
and  rhapsodes,  tending  to  bring  it  somewhat  nearer  to  the 
later  Ionic,  and  so  increasing  that  appearance  of  a  'mixed 
dialect '  which  it  now  presents.  A  modernising  process,  in 

1  If  the  Simonides  is  he  of  Amorgos  (p.  88  n.  2),  we  are  taken 
back  to  660  B.C. 

2  Apart  from  that  hypothesis,  however,  he  has  done  good  service 
in  promoting  a  closer  study  of  the  Homeric  dialect.     The  question  as  to 
how  far  the  Aeolic  in  which  he  has  clothed  the  epic  is,  or  is  not,  possible 
Aeolic,  matters  little :  his  version  is  given  mainly  for  the  purpose  of 
illustration.     His  Aeolic  Odyssey  has  been  reviewed  by  Christ  in  the 
Philol.  Anztiger  (xiv.  90 — 98),  by  Cauer  in  the  Zeitschr.  f.  d.  osterr. 
Gymnas.  (x.  290 — 311),  and  by  Hinrichs  in  the  Deutsch.  Litteratnr- 
zdtung  (1885  pp.  6 — 9),  who  are  all  opposed  to  the  theory. 


CH.   IV.]  THE    HOMERIC   QUESTION.  147 

this  limited  sense,  was  entirely  compatible  with  the  pre- 
servation, in  all  main  features,  of  its  essentially  ancient 
character. 

46.     The  evidence  of  Homeric  language  has  thus  been 
found  to  agree  with  the  evidence  furnished  by  the  subject- 
matter  of  the  poems.    Their  claim  to  a  high  antiquity  is  con- 
firmed.   In  connection  with  their  age,  there  is  a  further  ques-  The  tale 
tion  which  must  now  be  briefly  noticed.     We  saw  that,  as  a  ?f  Tr°y- 
general  picture  of  an  early  civilisation,  the  Homeric  poetry  histori- 
has  the  value  of  history.     But  how  much  of  historical  fact  cal' 
can  be  supposed  to  reside  in  the  story  of  the  Trojan  War? 

The  tale  of  Troy,  as  we  have  it  in  Homer,  is  essential^ 
a  poetic  creation  ;  and  the  poet  is  the  sole  witness.     The  Analogy 
romance    of    Charlemagne    embodies    the   historical    fact  * 


that  an  Emperor  once  ruled  Western  Europe  from  the 
Eider  to  the  Ebro.  It  also  departs  from  history  in  send- 
ing Charlemagne  on  a  crusade  to  Jerusalem,  because, 
when  the  romance  arose,  a  crusade  belonged  to  the  ideal  of 
chivalry.  Analogy  might  suggest  that  an  Achaean  prince  Limit  of 
had  once  really  held  a  position  like  that  of  Agamemnon  ; 
also,  that  some  Achaean  expedition  to  the  Troad  had 
occurred,  whether  this  Achaean  prince  had  himself  borne 
part  in  it  or  not.  Both  inferences  are  probable  on  other 
grounds.  Some  memorable  capture  of  a  town  in  the  Troad 
had  probably  been  made  by  Greek  warriors  ;  beyond  this 
we  cannot  safely  go.  It  is  fantastic  to  treat  the  siege  of 
Troy  as  merely  a  solar  myth,  —  to  explain  the  abduction  of 
Helen  by  Paris  as  the  extinction  of  the  sunlight  in  the 
West,  and  Troy  as  the  region  of  the  dawn  beset  and 
possessed  by  the  sunrise.  It  is  equally  fantastic,  and  more 
illogical,  to  follow  the  'rationalising'  method  —  to  deduct 
the  supernatural  element,  and  claim  the  whole  residuum  as 
historical  fact.  Homer  says  that  Achilles  slew  Hector  with 
the  aid  of  Athene.  We  are  not  entitled  to  omit  Athene, 
and  still  to  affirm  that  Achilles  slew  Hector1. 

1  See  the  article  in  the  Edinburgh  Review  on  Schliemann's  Hios, 
No.  CCCXiv.,  pp.  517  if.  (1881).   Freeman's  essay  on  'The  Mythical  and 


148  HOMER.  [CH.   IV. 

47.  After  the  recent  excavations  in  the  Troad,  an  im- 
pression appeared  to  exist  in  some  minds  that  the  Homeric 
narrative  of  the  Trojan  War  had  been  proved  historical, 
because  remains  had  been  found  which  (it  was  alleged)  might 
be  those  of  Troy.  It  is  well,  then,  briefly  to  state  the  relation 
between  the  evidence  of  the  Homeric  text  and  the  evidence 
of  those  excavations. 

Site  of  The  Iliad  shows  a  personal  acquaintance  with  the  plain 

Homeric  Qf  Troy,  and  with  the  dominant  features  of  the  surrounding 

landscape1.     In  the  site  of  Troy,  as  described  by  Homer, 

the    capital    feature    is    the    acropolis, — 'lofty',     'windy', 

'beetling', — with  those  precipitous  crags  over  which  it  was 

proposed  to  hurl  the  wooden  horse2.     This  suits  one  site 

Bunar-     onty   m    tne    Trojan    plain, — that    above    the   village   of 

bashi.      Bunarbashi,  on  the  lower  slopes  of  the  hills  which  fringe  the 

plain  to  the  south.     Here  the  hill  called  the  Bali   Dagh 

rises   some   400   feet   above   the   plain,   with   sheer    sides 

descending  on  S.  and  S.W.  to  the  valley  of  the  Mendere 

(Scamander).      A  little  N.W.  of  Homeric  Troy  two  natural 

springs    sPrmgs  rose-     A  little  N.W.   of  Bunarbashi  these  springs 

still  exist,  and  no  others  like  them  exist  anywhere  else  in 

the  plain.     As  Prof.  Ernst  Curtius  well  says, — 'This  pair 

Romantic  Elements  in  Early  English  History '  is  a  lucid  and  excellent 
statement  of  the  critical  principles  applicable  to  such  cases. 

1  Cp.  'A  Tour  in  the  Troad'  (Fortnightly  Review,  April,  1883, 
p.  51 4  f.).  Perhaps  the  thing  which  most  surprises  a  reader  of 
Homer  is  the  absence  of  high  mountains  from  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
Trojan  plain.  Ida  (5700  feet)  is  only  a  pale  blue  form  on  the  S.E. 
horizon,  some  30  miles  away.  The  island  peak  of  Samothrace  (5,200 
feet,  45  miles  off  to  the  N.W.) — Poseidon's  watching-place,  as  Ida  is 
that  of  Zeus — is  a  more  impressive  feature  of  the  view.  In  the  plain  can 
still  be  found  'wheat-bearing'  tracts  (//.  21.  602), — the  'reedy  marsh' 
(Od.  14.  474) — 'elms,  willows  and  tamarisks'  (//.  21.  350);  the  cry  of 
the  heron  (//.  10.  274)  may  still  be  heard;  an  eagle  'of  dark  plumage' 
(//.  24.  316)  may  still  be  seen  there, — or  cranes,  leaving  the  Troad 
for  northern  climes,  'when  they  have  escaped  the  winter'  (//.  3.  4). 

1  Od.  8.  508,  -q  Kara.  Trerpawj'  j3a\teiv  tpvaavras  tif  a/cpijs.  In 
Troy,  p.  18,  Dr  Schliemann  'most  positively'  asserted  that  Troy  had  «» 
acropolis. 


CH.  IV.]  THE   HOMERIC    QUESTION.  149 

of  rivulets  is  the  immutable  mark  of  nature,  by  which  the 
height  towering  above  is  recognised  as  the  citadel  of  Ilium1.' 
Though  the  site  at  Bunarbashi  has  not  yet  been  thoroughly 
explored2,  pottery  has  been  found  there  which  is  referred  to 
1000 — 900  B.C.*  Since  Le  Chevalier's  visit  in  1785,  the 
striking  features  of  agreement  between  Bunarbashi  and  the 
Homeric  picture  of  Troy — features  unique  in  the  Trojan 
plain — have  been  emphatically  recognised  by  a  series  of 
the  most  competent  observers,  including  Leake,  Moltke, 
Forchhammer,  Kiepert,  Ernst  Curtius,  and  Tozer*.  Leake 
remarked  that  any  person  at  all  accustomed  to  observe  the 
sites  of  ancient  Greek  towns  must  fix  on  Bunarbashi  'for  the 
site  of  the  chief  place  of  the  surrounding  country.'  The 
same  opinion  was  expressed  to  Prof.  E.  Curtius  by  Count 
Moltke, — that  'he  knew  no  other  site  in  the  Trojan  plain  for 
a  chief  town  of  ancient  time.' 

48.  The  low  mound  of  Hissarlik  stands  in  the  open  His- 
plain,  about  three  miles  from  the  Hellespont.  It  measures  sa 
some  325  yards  by  235,  and  stands  only  some  112  feet  above 
the  plain.  This  mound  marks  the  site  of  a  historical  Greek 
town,  to  which  the  first  settlers  gave  the  name  of  'Ilium' 
(perhaps  about  700  B.C.),  and  which  existed  here  down  to 
Roman  times.  In  the  mound  have  been  discovered  (i) 
remains  of  this  Greek  town,  (2)  some  prehistoric  remains. 
Dr  Schliemann  asserts  that  the  prehistoric  remains  are  those 
of  Homeric  Troy.  If  this  means  that  they  represent  a 
prehistoric  town  which  gave  rise  to  the  legend  of  Troy,  the 
assertion  is  one  which  can  no  longer  be  either  proved  or 
disproved.  No  objects  found  at  Hissarlik  tend  in  the  slightest 
degree  to  prove  it.  On  the  other  hand,  one  important  fact 
is  certain.  The  low  site  at  Hissarlik  is  in  the  strongest  con- 

1  History  of  Greece,  vol.  I.  ch.  iii.  p.  79  (transl.  Ward). 

2  'Eine  genaue  Untersuchung  hat  noch  nicht  stattgefunclen,  so  vicl 
ich  weiss'  (Prof.  E.  Curtius,  in  a  letter  of  Feb.  9,  1884). 

3  This  is  admitted  by  Dr  Schliemann;  Troja,  p.  768. 

*  See  their  testimonies  in  my  article,  '  Homeric  Troy,'  Fortnightly 
Review,  April,  1884,  p.  447. 


15°  HOMER.  [CH.   IV. 

trast  with  the  site  of  spacious  and  '  lofty  '  Troy  as  described 
by  Homer,  while  the  site  at  Bunarbashi  is  as  strikingly  in 
harmony  with  that  description.  The  solitary  phrase  in  the 
Iliad  which  favours  Hissarlik,  —  //.  20.  2i6f.,  where  Ilios  is 
'in  the  plain,'  —  belongs  to  a  passage  which,  as  Dr  Christ 
has  proved,  is  not  only  later  than  the  bulk  of  the  Iliad,  but 
is  one  of  the  latest  additions  of  all,  —  having  been  added 
by  some  dweller  in  the  Troad,  desirous  of  glorifying  the 
Aeneadae,  after  the  Greek  Ilium  had  been  built  in  the  plain1. 
The  Homeric  hymn  to  Aphrodite,  which  also  celebrates  the 
Aeneadae,  is  probably  of  the  same  age  (the  seventh  century 
B.C.),  and  from  a  kindred  source.  The  Greek  settlers  at 
Hissarlik  naturally  affirmed  that  their  '  Ilium  '  stood  on  the 
site  of  Troy  ;  in  proof  of  it,  they  showed  the  stone  on  which 
Palamedes  had  played  draughts.  Their  paradox,  a  mere 
birth  of  local  vanity,  was  as  decisively  rejected  by  sound 
criticism  in  ancient  as  in  modern  times2. 

49.     The  Homeric  poet  who  created  the  Troy  of  the 
Homeric  Hi&d  probably  knew  —  personally,  or  by  description  —  a  strong 


picture  town  at  Bunarbashi  as  the  ruling  city  of  the  surrounding 
district.  The  legend  of  a  siege,  on  which  the  Iliad  is 
founded,  may,  or  may  not,  have  arisen  from  the  actual 
siege  of  an  older  town  at  Hissarlik,  which,  in  the  poet's 
day,  had  already  perished.  He  would  easily  be  led  to 
place  the  Troy  of  his  poem  in  a  position  like  that  of  the 
existing  city  on  the  Bali  Dagh.  He  would  give  it  a  'lofty' 
and  'beetling'  acropolis.  He  would  endow  it  with  handsome 

1  //.  20.  216  KTicrae  5^  AapSavir]v,  tirel  'ouTrw/'IXtos;  Iffff  \  £v  weSicji  ire- 
iroXiffTo.     As  Prof.  Michaelis  said  early  in  1884  (see  FortnT~Remhv, 
April,  1884,  p.  452),  'it  would  not  be  difficult  to  show  that  the  whole 
part  in  T  in  which  Ilios  tv  TreSty  irejrJXwTo  belongs  to  an  £nf3d\ijj.ov 
which  is  not  in  good  accord  with  the  main  part  of  the  book.'     Later  in 
the  same  year  Christ's  Iliad  appeared.     He  shows  (Proleg.  p.  76)  that 
//.  20.  75  —  353  is  one  of  the  latest  interpolations,  due  to  a  rhapsode  'qui 
in  agro  Troiano  magis  quam  in  Musarum  nemoribus  versatus  esse  vide- 
tur.'     Its  author  has  imitated  various  passages  in  bks.  5,  6,  12,  17,  21, 
and  even  8. 

2  See  the  Journal  of  Hellenic  Studies,  Vol.  III.  pp.  203  —  217. 


CH.  IV.]  THE   HOMERIC   QUESTION.  151 

buildings.  His  epic  would  reproduce  the  general  course  of 
the  rivers,  and  that  striking  feature,  the  natural  springs  at 
the  foot  of  the  hill,  just  outside  the  city  gates.  Impressed 
by  the  strength  of  the  acropolis, — with  its  sheer  precipices 
descending  to  the  narrow  valley  of  the  Scamander,  and  its 
command  of  the  plain  stretching  towards  the  Hellespont, — 
he  would  see  in  this  natural  strength  a  confirmation  of  the 
legend  that  the  resistance  of  Troy  to  the  united  force  of  the 
Achaeans  had  been  prolonged  and  stubborn. 

But,  while  the  site  at  Bunarbashi  thus  supplied  the 
dominant  features  of  his  conception,  he  might  also  modify 
the  picture  by  traits  taken  from  other  scenes  known  to  him, 
or  from  imagination.  His  topography  might  be  in  some 
measure  eclectic,  or  even  freely  poetical1.  With  regard  to 
the  tactical  data — those  furnished  by  the  incidents  of  warfare 
in  the  Iliad — they  cannot  be  treated  with  the  rigour  applic- 
able to  a  military  history.  It  has  been  shown*,  however, 
that,  if  so  treated,  they  are  conclusive  against  the  notion 
that  the  poet  imagined  his  Troy  at  Hissarlik,  while  on  the 
other  hand  they  can  be  brought  into  general  accord  with  the 
site  at  Bunarbashi.3 

We  find,  then,  that  the  essentially  poetical  story  of  the 
Trojan  War,  as  presented  by  Homer,  contains  nothing 
incompatible  with  the  other  evidence  for  the  age  of  the 
poems,  but  nothing,  on  the  other  hand,  which  can  help  to 
fix  that  age  by  any  definite  relationships  to  historical  fact 

50.     The  lost  poems  of  the  Epic  Cycle  require  notice  The 
here,  as  they  help  to  fix  the  lower  limit  for  the  age  of  the 

1  See  my  paper  on  'The  Ruins  at  Hissarlik,'  Joum.  Hellen.  Stud. 
III.  pp.  192  ff. 

3  By  Mr  George  Nikolaides,  in  his  'IXuifos  SrparjT-yiKTj  Aiao-jrew) 
(1883), — a  development  of  his  earlier  work,  'Topographic  et  plan  strate"- 
gique  de  1'Iliade.' 

8  On  the  question  of  Bunarbashi  versus  Hissarlik,  Prof.  Michaelis 
wrote  to  me  in  1884; — 'Certainly,  brffercu  rjfuip  8rav  irvri  the  full  truth 
will  come  to  light ;  and  I  have  little  doubt  that  it  will  not  be  far  from 
what  you  have  exposed  in  your  articles  in  the  Journal  of  Hellenic 


152  HOMER.  [CH.   IV. 

Homeric  poems.1  The  Epic  Cycle2  was  a  body  of  epic 
poems  by  various  hands,  arranged  in  the  chronological 
order  of  the  subjects,  so  as  to  form  a  continuous  history 
of  the  mythical  world.  It  began  with  the  marriage  of 
Heaven  and  Earth — whence  sprang  the  Giants  and  the 
Cyclopes — and  went  down  to  the  slaying  of  Odysseus  by  his 
son  Telegonus. 

When  this  body  of  epics  was  first  put  together,  we  do 
not  know.  The  earliest  notice  of  it  is  due  to  a  gram- 
marian named  Proclus,3  who  lived  probably  about  140 
A.D.,  and  wrote  a  'Manual  of  Literature'  (Xprjo-To/aafleta 
ypa^ariKij)*  In  this  manual  he  gave  short  prose  summaries, 
or  '  arguments,'  of  the  poems  which  formed  the  Epic  Cycle. 
Extant  fragments  of  the  manual  give  what  he  said  about 
the  poems  in  one  part  of  the  Epic  Cycle, — viz.,  the  part 
concerning  the  war  of  Troy. 

1  See,  on  this  subject,  the  papers  by  Mr  Monro  in  the  Journal  of 
Hellenic  Studies,  vol.  IV.  pp.  305  ff.,  vol.  V.  pp.  i  ff. 

2  'EirtKoy  KifoXos.    The  word  KVK\OS  meant: — (i)  a  routine,  generally: 
esp.  in  the  language  of  the  Homeric  scholiasts,  the  conventional  epic 
manner:  thus,  a  stock  phrase,  like  'AXCUWP  •x.a-^KO'X.LT^v<avt  is  said  to  be 
ToC  KIK\OV:  see  Monro  /.  c.  p.  329.     (2)  An  epigram  so  made  that  the 
first  and   last   lines  could  change  places, — as  in  the  epitaph  on  the 
tomb  of  Midas,  Plat.  Phaedr.  264  D.     Aristotle  has  KVK\OS  in  this  sense 
(referring  to  some  epigram  ascribed  to  Homer  in  Soph.  Elench.  10.  6). 
(3)  A  comprehensive  summary,  whether  in  verse  or  prose; — as  the 
IffTopixbs  /cvVXos  (a  prose  outline  of  mythology)  ascribed  by  Suidas  to 
Dionysius  of  Miletus.  'Ey/cu/cXtos  iraiSeia,  £JK.  /xa077,uaTa=simply  'usual' 
course  of  instruction,  studies,  &c.     But  /cu/cXt/co's  commonly  had  a  bad 
sense,  'conventional,  trite.'    Esp.  as  epithet  of  poet  or  poem,  it  implied 
(i)  trite  epic  material,  (2)  epic  mannerism,  (3)  a  merely  chronological 
order  of  treatment :  thus  Callimachus  tauntingly  applied  it  to  Apollonius 
Rhodius  (TO  Tronj/xa  TO  KVK\IKOI>  Anthol.  12,  43),  and  Horace  speaks  of 
a  scriplor  cyclicus  who  begins  the  Trojan   war  from  the  double  egg 
(Ars  Poet.  135). 

3  Conjecturally  identified  by  Welcker  with  Eutychius  Proclus  of 
Sicca,  who  taught  the  Emperor  M.  Antoninus. 

The  patriarch  Photius  (9th  cent.),  in  his  Bibliotheca,  gives  some 
extracts  from  the  Xpr/ffTo/jidOfia  of  Proclus,  with  an  account  of  that 
.vork,  and  of  the  Epic  Cycle  as  epitomised  therein. 

4  The  fragments  are  included  in  Gaisford's  Hephaestion  (new  ed., 
Oxford,  1855). 


CH.  IV.]  THE    HOMERIC   QUESTION.  153 

51.     The  Trojan  chapter  of  the  Cycle  contained  eight  Analysis 
epics,  Homer's  Iliad  standing  second,  and  Homer's  Odyssey  £,f  l! 
seventh.     The  chief  facts  about  the  other  epics   may  be  Cycle, 
most  briefly  and  clearly  shown  in  a  tabular  form. 

1.  Cypria  (Kvirpia) :  n  books.     Author  doubtful  (Staslnus  of  Cy- 
prus?).   Date,  circ.  776  B.C. 

Sttbject : — Zeus  resolves  to  reduce  the  burdens  of  the  teeming  earth 
by  a  great  war,  and  sends  Discord  to  the  wedding  of  Peleus  and  Thetis. 
'Judgment  of  Paris,'  giving  the  prize  to  Aphrodite.  Paris  carries  off 
Helen.  War  of  Troy  down  to  the  point  at  which  Zeus  resolves  to 
help  the  Trojans  by  withdrawing  Achilles.  Hero  of  the  epic — Paris. 
The  Cypria  seems  to  have  been  a  sort  of  chronicle,  beginning  from  the 
first  cause  of  the  Trojan  War,  and  going  down  to  the  point  at 
which  the  Iliad  opens. 

Non-Homeric  traits: — Apotheosis  of  the  Dioscuri  who  in  Homer  (//. 
3.  243)  are  merely  dead  men. — Story  of  Iphigenia  (whom  the  Cypria 
distinguished  from  Homer's  Iphianassa,  //.  9.  145).  Story  of  Pala- 
medes.  Helen  is  now  the  daughter  of  Nemesis  —  who,  pursued  by 
Zeus,  changes  into  many  shapes  to  elude  him.  Cassandra  has  the  gift 
of  prophecy,  which  Homer  does  not  give  to  her. 

2.  Homer's  Iliad. 

3.  Atthiopis   (AlOioirls) :   5  books.     Author,    Arctinus  of  Miletus, 
arc.  776  B.C. 

Subject: — After  the  funeral  of  Hector  {Iliad  24),  the  Amazon 
queen,  Penthesileia,  comes  to  the  aid  of  Troy.  Her  death.  Exploits 
and  death  of  Memnon.  Death  of  Achilles.  Ajax  and  Odysseus  con- 
tend for  his  arms:  the  latter  obtains  them.  Hero  of  the  epic — Achilles. 

Non-Homeric  traits: — The  worship  of  men  after  their  death  as 
'heroes'  (Achilles  and  Memnon  being  made  immortal).  A  ritual  of 
purification  from  the  guilt  of  homicide,  under  the  favour  of  Apollo 

KO.6dpffl.OS. 

4.  Little  Iliad  ('IXtds  Mucpa) :  4  books.     Author  doubtful  (Lesches 
of  Mitylene  ?).    Date,  circ.  700  B.C. 

Subject: — Trojan  war,  from  the  award  of  the  Achillean  arms  to 
Odysseus,  down  to  the  capture  of  Troy :  including  the  return  and 
healing  of  Philoctetes,  and  the  episode  of  the  wooden  horse.  Hero  of 
the  epic — Odysseus. — The  poem  seems  to  have  been  directly  inspired 
by  the  tone  of  the  Odyssey,  and  to  have  had  more  material  in  common 
with  Homer  than  any  other  of  the  Cyclic  epics. 

Non- Homeric  traits : — The  magic  Palladium  (image  of  Pallas),  on 
which  the  fate  of  Troy  depends.  Story  of  Sinon  (Virg.  Aetieid  ll). 
Story  of  Aethra,  mother  of  Theseus,  carried  off  from  Attica  by  the 
Dioscuri. 


154  HOMER. 

5.  Iliupersis  ('I\£oi>  irtpyis) :  i  books.    Author,  Arctinus  of  Miletus, 
circ.  776  B.C. 

Subject: — The  Trojans  resolve  to  dedicate  the  wooden  horse  on 
their  acropolis.  Laocoon  and  one  of  his  sons  are  killed  by  serpents. 
Aeneas  and  some  followers,  warned  by  this  portent,  retire  from 
Troy  to  Mount  Ida.  Fall  of  Troy.  Departure  of  the  Greeks. 
Hero  of  the  epic — Neoptolemus,  the  son  of  Achilles. 

Non-Homeric  traits: — Episode  of  Laocoon  and  flight  of  Aeneas. 
Sacrifice  of  Priam's  daughter,  Polyxena,  at  the  tomb  of  Achilles — 
indicating  hero-worship.  Other  points  (as  the  stories  of  Sinon  and 
Aethra)  are  common  to  this  poem  and  the  Little  Iliad. 

6.  Nostoi  (Noffroi) :  5  books.     Author,  Agias  of  Troezen,  circ,  750 
B.C. 

Subject: — The  adventures  of  some  heroes  on  their  return  from 
Troy, — chiefly  those  of  Menelaus,  who  visits  Egypt,  and  of  Agamemnon, 
who  is  slain  by  Clytaemnestra.  The  poem  was  a  sort  of  tragic  Odyssey, 
bridging  the  passage  from  Homer  to  Aeschylus. 

Non- Homeric  traits: — Death  of  Calchas,  on  meeting  a  greater  seer 
than  himself  (Mopsus,  at  Colophon).  Journey  of  Neoptolemus  to 
Epeirus — where  the  Molossi  are  first  named.  The  shade  of  Achilles 
warns  Agamemnon  of  his  doom.  The  enchantress  Medea. 

7.  Homer's  Odyssey. 

8.  Telegonia  (frjXeyovla) :  i  books.    Author,  Eugammon  of  Cyrene, 
circ.  566  B.C. 

Subject; — Telegonus,  son  of  the  enchantress  Circe  by  Odysseus, 
unwittingly  slays  his  father  in  Ithaca.  Made  aware  of  his  sin,  he 
takes  his  sire's  corpse,  with  Telemachus  and  Penelope,  to  his  mother. 
She  makes  the  living  immortal:  Telegonus  is  wedded  to  Penelope, 
and  Telemachus  to  Circe.  In  the  earlier  part,  Odysseus  was  made  to 
marry  a  Thesprotian  queen,  Callidice.  Here  is  seen  the  wish  to  work 
in  genealogies  of  families  claiming  descent  from  Odysseus. 

52.  The  foregoing  sketch  shows  that  some  of  the 
earliest  Cyclic  epics,  dating  from  circ.  7763.0.,  presuppose 
the  Iliad,  being  planned  to  introduce  or  to  continue  it.  In 
some  copies  the  Cyclic  Aethiopis  was  actually  pieced  on  to 
the  twenty-fourth  book  of  the  Iliad1.  But  that  book  was 
certainly  one  of  the  later  additions  to  the  epic.  It  would 

1  The  last  verse  of  the  Iliad  (24.  804)  is  us  ol  y  d/j.^ietrov  ra<pov 
"E/CTO/JOJ  27T7ro5d/ttoio.  The  Aethiopis  was  linked  to  it  by  reading,  <Ss  ol 
y  dfj,<j>leirov  rdQov  "~EicTopos'  ijXfle  5'  'A/ttafwi',  |  "Ap^os  Ovyarrjp  fteya- 
\rrropos  dvSpo(f>bvoi.o.  This  is  mentioned  in  the  Victorian  scholia  on  the 
Iliad  (p.  101,  n.  i).  Cp.  Welcker,  Epic  Cycle,  II.  170. 


CM.   IV.]  THE    HOMERIC    QUESTION.  155 

appear,  then,  that  the  Iliad  must  have  existed,  in  something 
like  its  present  compass,  as  early  as  Boo  B.C.  ;  indeed,  a  con- 
siderably earlier  date  will  seem  probable,  if  due  time  is 
allowed  for  the  poem  to  have  grown  into  such  fame  as 
would  incite  the  effort  to  continue  it.  As  compared  with 
the  Iliad  and  Odyssey,  the  Cyclic  epics  show  the  stamp  of  a 
later  age  (a)  in  certain  ideas, — as  hero-worship,  purifying 
rituals,  etc. :  (b)  in  a  larger  circle  of  geographical  knowledge, 
and  a  wider  range  of  mythical  material. 

The  external  evidence  of  the  Epic  Cycle  thus  confirms 
the  twofold  internal  evidence  of  Homeric  matter  and 
Homeric  language.  The  bulk  of  the  Homeric  poems  must  be 
older  than  800  B.  c.,  although  some  particular  additions  to 
them  are  later. 

53.     We  may  now  collect  the  results  of  the  preceding  General 
inquiry,  and  consider  how  far  they  warrant  any  definite  con-  ^esufts  ° 
elusions  respecting  the  origin  of  the  Homeric  poems.     The 
Iliad  must  be  taken  separately  from  the  Odyssey. 

At  the  outset,  the  ground  may  be  partly  cleared  by  Views 
setting  aside  two  extreme  views,  which  few  persons,  whic£ 
acquainted  with  the  results  of  recent  criticism,  would  now  rejected, 
maintain.  One  of  these  is  the  theory  with  which  Lachmann's 
name  is  especially  associated, — that  the  Iliad  has  been 
pieced  together  out  of  short  lays  which  were  not  originally 
connected  by  any  common  design  (§  14).  The  other  is  the 
theory  which  was  generally  prevalent  down  to  Wolf's  time, 
— that  the  Iliad  is  the  work  of  one  poet,  Homer,  as  the 
Aeneid  is  the  work  of  Virgil.  In  England,  if  nowhere  else, 
this  view  is  still  cherished,  though  more  often,  perhaps,  as  a 
sentiment  than  as  an  opinion.  Most  Englishmen  have 
been  accustomed  to  read  the  Iliad  with  delight  in  the  spirit 
of  the  whole,  rather  than  with  attention  to  the  characteristics 
of  different  parts.  This,  too,  is  the  way  in  which  modern 
poets  have  usually  read  Homer ;  and  as,  consequently,  the 
poets  have  mostly  believed  in  Homeric  unity,  an  impression 
has  gained  ground,  especially  in  England,  that  throughout 


156  HOMER.  [CH.    IV. 

the  Homeric  poems  there  exists  a  personal  unity  of  genius, 
which  men  of  poetical  genius  can  feel,  and  which  is 
infinitely  more  significant  than  those  discrepancies  of  detail 
with  which  critics  occupy  themselves.  This  popular  im- 
pression has  been  strengthened  by  a  special  cause. 
Decep-  54.  The  traditional  style  of  Ionian  epos — developed  in 

unfty  of  t^ie  course  °f  generations — gives  a  general  uniformity  of 
the  epic  effect  which  is  delusive.  The  old  Ionic,  with  its  wealth  of 
liquid  sounds,  with  its  union  of  softness  and  strength,  was 
naturally  fitted  to  render  the  epic  hexameter  musical,  rapid, 
and  majestic  Epic  usage  had  gradually  shaped  a  large 
number  of  phrases  and  formulas  which  constantly  recur 
in  like  situations,  without  close  regard  to  circumstances 
which  distinguish  one  occasion  from  another1.  An  Ionian 
poet  who  wished  to  insert  an  episode  in  the  Iliad  had  this 
epic  language  at  command.  Even  if  his  natural  gifts  were 
somewhat  inferior  to  those  of  the  poet  whose  work  he  was 
enlarging,  the  style  would  go  far  to  veil  the  inequality.  Mr 
Matthew  Arnold  says  : — '  The  insurmountable  obstacle  to 
believing  the  Iliad  a  consolidated  work  of  several  poets  is 
this — that  the  work  of  great  masters  is  unique ;  and  the  Iliad 
has  a  great  master's  genuine  stamp,  and  that  stamp  is  the 
grand  style.'  Now,  '  the  grand  style '  spoken  of  here,  in  so 
far  as  it  can  be  claimed  for  the  whole  epic,  is  simply  the 
Ionian  style  of  heroic  epos.  If  we  look  closer,  we  see  that 
the  manner  of  the  tenth  book,  for  instance,  is  unlike  that 
of  the  rest ;  the  twenty-fourth  book,  and  some  other  books 
or  passages,  have  traits  of  style  which  are  their  own ;  the 
'Catalogue'  is  distinct  in  style  from  its  setting.  Suppose  that 
the  poems  of  the  Epic  Cycle  had  been  extant  as  one  work 
under  Homer's  name,  with  no  record  of  their  several  authors. 
The  'grand  style'  could  doubtless  have  been  claimed  for 
that  work ;  not,  perhaps,  in  an  equal  degree  with  the  Iliad, 
but  still  in  a  sense  which  could  have  furnished  an  argument 
like  the  above  for  unity  of  authorship.  On  the  other  hand, 

1  According  to  Carl   Eduard   Schmidt,  the  sum  of  the   repeated 
verses  in  the  two  epics  amounts  to  sixteen  thousand. 


CH.  IV. J  THE    HOMERIC    QUESTION.  157 

this  traditional  epic  style  imposes  a  special  caution  on  all 
precise  theories  of  composite  authorship.  It  makes  it  harder 
to  say  exactly  where  one  hand  ceases  and  another  begins. 

55.  Yet  the  defenders  of  Homeric  unity  may  find  com-  Conser- 

fort  in  the  thought  that,  if  the  old  form  of  their  faith  has  be-  tvatj,ve 

tendency 

come  untenable,  much  of  its  essence  has  been  preserved  of  recent 
and  reinvigorated.  In  the  doctrine  of  Wolf  himself,  as  we  studies- 
have  seen,  the  analytic  element  was  tempered  by  a  strongly 
conservative  element ;  he  conceded  to  Homer  '  the  greater 
part  of  the  songs,'  and  an  influence  which  guided  the 
composition  of  the  rest.  The  analytic  element  in  his  theory 
was  that  which  arrested  attention,  because,  when  it  was 
published,  it  was  sharply  contrasted  with  the  old  belief  in 
one  Homer ;  and  hence  his  work  has  often  been  associated 
with  a  purely  destructive  tendency  which  was  quite  foreign 
to  its  spirit.  The  great  result  of  recent  criticism  has  been 
to  develope  the  conservative  element  in  Wolf's  doctrine; 
not,  however,  exactly  in  Hermann's  way,  but  by  adjusting 
it  to  the  more  correct  point  of  view  taken  by  Nitzsch, — 
that  the  original  Iliad  was  already  an  epic  poem,  and  not 
merely  the  lay  of  a  primitive  bard. 

56.  Everything  tends  to  show  that  the  Iliad  was  planned 
by  one  great  poet,  who  also  executed  the  most  essential  parts 

of  it.     By  "the  'primary'  Iliad  we  shall  here  denote  the  The 
first   form  which  the  poet   probably  gave  to  his  work,  as 
distinguished  from  the  enlarged  form  afterwards   given  to 
it,  partly  (perhaps)  by  himself,  partly  by  others. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  first  book  of  the  exist- 
ing Iliad  formed  the  beginning  of  the  primary  Iliad.  The 
probable  compass  of  the  primary  poem  may  best  be  judged 
by  the  nature  of  the  theme  from  which  it  sets  out, — a 
quarrel  between  Achilles  and  Agamemnon.  Such  a  feud 
between  two  prominent  heroes  is  found  elsewhere  as  a 
popular  motif  of  epic  song.  The  minstrel  Demodocus  (Od. 
8.  75)  sang  'a  lay  whereof  the  fame  had  then  reached  the 
wide  heaven ;  namely  the  quarrel  between  Odysseus  and 
Achilles,  son  of  Peleus,  how  once  on  a  time  they  contended 


158  HOMER.  [CH.  IV. 

in  fierce  words  at  a  rich  festival  of  the  gods  ;  but  Agamem- 
non, king  of  men,  was  inly  glad,  when  the  noblest  of  the 
Achaeans   fell   at  variance.'     Such   a   subject   would  give 
scope  for  brilliant  speeches,  exhibiting  the  general  character- 
Special    istics  of  the  disputants.     The  poet  who  planned  the  Iliad, 
advan-     — whether  he  had,  or  had  not,  poetical  precedent  for  taking 
of  the      a  quarrel  between  heroes  as  his  subject, — was  presumably 
subject.    orjginai  jn  his  perception  of  the  peculiar  advantage  which 
belonged  to  his  choice  of  persons.     A  grievance  against  a 
subordinate  chief  would  not   have  warranted   Achilles  in 
withdrawing   his   aid   from   the   whole   Greek   army.     But 
Agamemnon,   as   supreme   leader,   represented  the   Greek 
army :  when  wronged  by  Agamemnon,  Achilles  had  excuse 
for  making  the  quarrel  a  public  one.     And  the  retirement 
of  the  most  brilliant  Greek  hero,  Achilles,  left  the  Greeks 
at   a   disadvantage,  thus   creating   an  opportunity  for  the 
efforts  of  minor  Greek  heroes,  and  also  for  the  pictures  of  a 
doubtful  warfare. 

The  57.     Unless,  then,  we  are  prepared  to  assume  that  the 

waTan     Poet  wno  sanS  't'ie  wratn  °f  Achilles'  was  insensible  to  the 
'Iliad'     special  capabilities  of  his  theme,  we  can  scarcely  refuse  to 
first!    1C  believe  that  his  epic  was  more  than  an   '  Achilleid,'  cele- 
brating  a  merely  personal   episode.     It  must  have  been, 
from  the  first,  an  '  Iliad,'  including  some  general  descrip- 
tion of  that  struggle  between  Greeks  and  Trojans  in  which 
a  new  crisis  was  occasioned  by  the  temporary  withdrawal  of 
Achilles.     Precisely  the  distinction  of  the  poet's  invention 
(I   conceive)    was   the  choice   of  a  moment  which  could 
combine  the  personal  interest  of  a  feud  between  two  heroes 
with  the  variety  and  splendour  of  large  battle-scenes. 
its  And  the  plot  of  this  primary  Iliad,  as  foreshadowed  in 

compass,  the  first  book,  must  have  comprised  the  following  series  of 
events.  Agamemnon  wrongs  Achilles,  who  retires  from  the 
war.  Zeus  promises  Thetis  that  he  will  avenge  her  son  by 
causing  the  Greeks  to  be  discomfited.  The  tide  of  fortune 
presently  turns  in  favour  of  the  Trojans;  the  Greeks  are 
hard  pressed,  and,  in  attempting  to  succour  them,  Patroclus 


CH.  IV.]  THE   HOMERIC   QUESTION.  159 

is  slain.  The  death  of  his  friend  rouses  Achilles;  he  is 
reconciled  to  Agamemnon,  and,  after  doing  great  deeds 
against  the  Trojans,  slays  their  foremost  champion,  Hector. 

These  events  are  contained  in  books  i,  n,  and  1 6  to  22 
inclusive,  which  probably  represent  the  substance  of  the 
primary  Iliad, — allowance  being  made  for  later  interpola- 
tions, large  or  small,  in  books  16 — 22.  In  this  primary 
Iliad,  the  turning-point  is  book  n,  which  relates  the 
discomfiture  of  the  Greeks,  in  accordance  with  the  promise 
of  Zeus. 

58.     We  may  now  ask  how  this  primary  Iliad  would  Enlarge 
have  been  viewed  by  a  poet — whether  the  first,  or  another —  thgn 
who  desired  to  enlarge  it  without  materially  altering  the  plot,  primary 
Two  places  in  it  would  naturally  recommend  themselves,  in 
preference  to  others,  for  the  insertion  of  new  matter ;  viz., 
the  place  between  books  i  and  1 1,  and  that  between  books 
1 1  and  1 6.     But  it  is  also  evident  that,  of  these  two  places, 
the  former  would  be  a  poet's  first  choice.     The  purpose  of 
Zeus  to  humiliate  the  Greeks  might  well  be  represented  as 
effecting  itself  only  gradually,  and  by  a  process  consistent 
with  vicissitudes  of  fortune.     Thus  there  was  no  poetical 
necessity   that    book     i    should    be    closely   followed   by 
book  n. 

The  general  contents  of  books  2  to  7  inclusive  agree  Books 
with  the  supposition  that  this  group  represents  the  earliest  *  to  7' 
series  of  additions  made  (not  all  at  one  time  or  by  one 
hand)  to  the  primary  Iliad.  From  book  2  we  except  the 
'Catalogue,'  which  was  a  much  later  interpolation.  The 
older  part  of  book  2  contains  the  deceptive  dream  sent  by 
Zeus,  which  fills  Agamemnon  with  hopes  of  victory,  and 
beguiles  him  into  preparing  for  battle ;  the  Council  of  the 
chiefs ;  and  the  Assembly  of  the  army.  Books  3  and  4  are 
closely  connected,  the  main  subjects  being  the  truce 
between  Greeks  and  Trojans,  and  the  single  combat  of 
Menelaus  and  Paris,  which  has  no  decisive  issue,  Paris 
being  saved  by  Aphrodite.  Books  5  and  6,  again,  hang 
together,  the  prowess  of  Diomede  being  the  central  theme. 


l6o  HOMER.  [CH.   IV. 

In  book  7  we  have  a  second  duel, — this  time  between 
Ajax  and  Hector, — which,  like  the  former,  is  indecisive, — 
the  combatants  making  gifts  to  each  other  at  the  end  of  it. 
Then  the  Greeks  bury  their  dead,  and  build  the  wall  at 
their  camp. 

The  general  characteristic  of  these  six  books  (2 — 7)  is 
that  we  have  a  series  of  detached  episodes,  while  'the  pur- 
pose of  Zeus,'  announced  in  book  i,  remains  in  suspense. 
Books  59.     Different  and  more  difficult  conditions  had  to  be 

12  to  15.  satisfieci  by  anv  new  WOrk  which  should  be  inserted  in  the 
other  manifestly  available  place, — viz.,  between  book  u  and 
book  16.  Zeus  having  utterly  discomfited  the  Greeks  in 
book  11,  poetical  fitness  set  a  limit  to  the  interval  which 
could  be  allowed  to  elapse  before  Patroclus,  the  precursor 
of  Achilles,  should  come  to  the  rescue  in  book  16.  And  as 
the  end  of  book  1 1  already  forms  a  climax — the  distress  of 
the  Greeks  being  extreme — in  adding  anything  between 
that  point  and  book  16  it  was  necessary  to  avoid  an 
anti-climax.  These  requirements  are  fulfilled  by  the  Battle 
at  the  Camp,  told  in  books  12,  13,  14  and  15.  It  is  the 
last  desperate  defence  of  the  Greeks.  The  Trojans  are 
rushing  on  to  burn  the  ships.  Ajax  can  barely  keep  the 
foes  at  bay.  Then,  at  the  supreme  crisis,  Patroclus  arrives, 
in  the  armour  of  Achilles. 

These  four  books  (12 — 15),  apart  from  some  interpo- 
lations, possess  all  the  intrinsic  qualities  of  great  poetry. 
The  best  proof  of  it  is  that,  though  the  struggle  is  thus 
drawn  out,  our  interest  in  it  does  not  flag.  When,  however, 
the  Iliad  is  read  continuously,  it  is  difficult  to  resist  the 
belief  that  book  n  was  originally  designed  to  be  followed 
more  closely  by  book  16.  Books  12  to  15,  thus  read, 
impress  the  mind  rather  as  a  skilful  and  brilliant  ex- 
pansion. 

60.  Our  primary  Iliad,  consisting  of  books  i,  n,  and 
1 6  to  22,  has  now  been  enlarged  by  the  accession  of  these 
two  groups;  books  2 — 7  before  book  n,  and  books  12 — 15 
after  it.  The  original  plot  preserves  its  simplicity.  The 


CH.  IV.]  THE   HOMERIC   QUESTION.  l6l 

only  difference  is  that  the  purpose  of  Zeus  is  now  delayed, 
and  the  agony  of  the  Greeks  is  prolonged. 

Let  us  next  suppose  that  a  poet,  conscious  especially  of  Books 
rhetorical  gifts,  found  the  Iliad  in  this  enlarged  form.     If      l   9' 
he  wished  to  insert  some  large  piece  of  his  own  work,  how 
could  he  best  proceed,  without  injury  to  the  epic  frame- 
work?  The  part  between  books  n  and  16  would  no  longer 
tolerate  any  considerable  amplification.    If,  again,  the  series 
of  episodes   between   books    i  and    n  should  be  merely 
extended,  the  effect  would  be  tedious,  and  the  delay  in  'the 
purpose  of  Zeus'  would  appear  excessive. 

But  another  resource  remained.  Without  fundamentally 
changing  the  plot,  it  was  possible  to  duplicate  it.  The 
Greeks  might  be  twice  discomfited.  After  the  first  reverse, 
they  might  sue  for  help  to  Achilles — and  be  rejected ; — an 
episode  full  of  splendid  opportunities  for  poetical  eloquence 
and  pathos.  If  such  an  episode  were  to  be  added,  the  right 
place  for  it  evidently  was  immediately  before  the  original 
(now  to  be  the  second)  discomfiture  of  the  Greeks  in  book  n. 

The  poet  who  conceived  this  idea  added  books  8  and  9 
to  the  Iliad.  Book  10  did  not  yet  exist. 

61.  Books  23  and  24  form  a  sequel.  They  are  con-  Books 
cerned  with  a  subject  always  of  extreme  interest  to  Greek  23  and 
hearers — as,  at  a  later  period,  the  Attic  dramatists  so  often 
remind  us — the  rendering  of  due  burial  rites  to  the  chief 
hero  slain  on  either  side,  Patroclus  and  Hector.  The 
episode  of  the  funeral  games  in  book  23  (from  v.  257  to  the 
end)  was  certainly  a  separate  addition,  and  is  probably 
much  later  than  the  preceding  part  of  that  book,  which 
relates  the  burial  of  Patroclus.  The  case  of  books  23  and 
24  differs  in  one  material  respect  from  that  of  the  other 
books  which  we  have  been  considering  in  the  light  of 
additions  to  the  primary  Iliad.  If  books  23  and  24  are 
viewed  simply  in  relation  to  the  plot,  there  is  no  reason 
why  they  should  not  have  belonged  to  the  primary  Iliad 
itself.  It  is  the  internal  evidence  of  language  and  style 
which  makes  this  improbable.  Book  24  is  in  many  ways  so 

j.  ii 


162  HOMER.  LCH.  iv. 

fine,  and  forms  so  fitting  a  conclusion  to  the  Iliad,  that 
Dr  Christ  would  ascribe  it  either  to  the  first  poet  himself, 
or  to  a  successor  executing  his  design.  A  hint  of  that 
design  may  (it  is  suggested)  be  found  in  book  23,  where 
the  gods  protect  the  corpse  of  Hector  from  disfigurement 
(184 — 191).  On  this  view,  books  23  and  24  would  at  least 
be  decidedly  older  than  book  9. 

These  three  books,  however,  have  several  traits  in 
common  with  each  other,  and  with  the  Odyssey,  which 
distinguish  them  from  the  undoubtedly  older  parts  of  the 
Relation  Iliad.  And  I  am  disposed  to  think  that  book  24,  at  least, 
°  t°°  was  mainly  composed  by  the  author  of  book  9.  This  view 
book  9.  is  confirmed  by  a  comparison  of  the  speeches  in  the  two 
books,  especially  in  regard  to  a  particular  trait — the 
rhetorical  enumeration  of  names  of  places  in  passages 
marked  by  strong  feeling1.  A  certain  emotional  character, 
more  easily  felt  than  defined,  pervades  both  books ;  and  in 
both  the  conception  of  Achilles  has  distinctive  features. 
The  love  of  contrast  as  a  source  of  effect,  which  can  be 
traced  in  book  9,  is  equally  present  in  book  24,  where  the 
helpless  old  king  supplicates  the  young  warrior.  And  book 
24  is  itself  a  brilliant  antithesis  to  book  9.  The  great 
rhetorical  poet  who  had  shown  Achilles  inexorable  to  the 
Achaean  chiefs  may  have  wished  to  paint  a  companion 
picture,  and  to  show  him  relenting  at  the  prayer  of  the  aged 
Priam8. 

Book  10.  62.  All  those  parts  of  the  Iliad  which  have  thus  far 
been  considered  must  be  older  than  circ.  850 — 800  B.C. 
Book  10  remains.  As  we  have  already  seen  (§  18),  it  has  a 
stamp  of  its  own,  which  clearly  marks  it  as  a  later  work, 

1  E.g.,  with  9.  149  ff.  and  381  f.  I  would  compare  34.  544  ff. 

2  Space  precludes  me  from  here  developing  in  detail  the   resem- 
blances between  the  two  books.     But  I  may  refer  to  the  five  verses 
which  describe  Achilles  in  his  tent,  as  he  is  found  by  the  Greek  envoys, 
(9.  186 — 191).     Compare  these  with  the  five  verses  which  describe  him 
in  his  tent  as  he  is  found  by  Priam  (24.  471 — 476).     While  neither 
passage  imitates  the  other,  the  same  mind  can  be  felt  in  both. 


CH.  IV.]  THE    HOMERIC   QUESTION.  163 

referable,  perhaps,  to  circ.  750 — 600  B.C.     A  similar  age  The 
may  be  assigned  to  '  the  greater  interpolations.'    This  name  ?r^atcr 
will  conveniently  describe  a  class  of  passages  which  differ  lations. 
much  in  style  and  merit, — some  of  them  containing  parts  of 
great    intrinsic    brilliancy, — but   which   have   one  general 
•characteristic   in   common.     Each    of   them   presents   the 
appearance  of  a  separate  effort  by  a  poet  who  elaborated  a 
single  episode  in  a  vein  suited  to  his  own  resources,  and 
then  inserted  it  in  the  Iliad,  without  much  regard  to  the 
interests  of  the  epic  as  a  whole.     In  this  general  character 
we  may  recognise  the  mark  of  a  period  when  the  higher  epic 
art  was  declining,  while   poetical   rhetoric   and   ingenuity 
found  their  favourite  occupation  in  giving  an  elaborate  finish 
to  shorter  pieces. 

The  following  passages  come  under  this  class,  (i)  In 
book  9,  the  episode  of  Phoenix,  vv.  432 — 619 — where  the 
desire  to  tell  the  story  of  Meleager  was  one  of  the  motives. 
•(2)  In  book  ii,  the  interview  between  Nestor  and  Patroclus, 
vv.  596 — 848,  or  at  least  so  much  of  it  as  is  comprised  in 
665 — 762.  (3)  In  book  18,  the  making  of  the  armour  of  the 
Achilles,  vv.  369 — end.  (4)  The  Theomachia,  in  book  20, 
vv.  4 — 380,  (including  the  combat  of  Aeneas  and  Achilles, 
vv.  75 — 352,  in  which  Aeneas  is  saved  by  Poseidon,)  and 
in  book  21,  383 — end.  (5)  In  book  23,  the  funeral  games, 
w.  257 — end.  (6)  The  case  of  the  'Catalogue'  in  book  2 
is  peculiar.  The  list  of  the  Greek  forces  (484 — 779)  was 
mainly  the  work  of  a  Boeotian  poet  of  the  Hesiodic  school, 
and  was  probably  composed  long  before  it  was  inserted  in 
the  Iliad.  The  list  of  the  Trojan  forces  (816 — 877)  seems 
to  have  been  a  later  adjunct  to  it  by  a  different  hand. 

The  above  list  might  be  enlarged  if  we  included  all  the 
passages,  of  any  considerable  extent,  which  have  with  more 
or  less  reason  been  regarded  as  interpolations.  But  here 
we  must  be  content  to  indicate  some  of  the  more  important 
and  more  certain  examples.  Interpolations  of  the  smaller 
kind,  which  have  been  numerous  throughout  the  Iliad,  do 
not  fall  within  the  scope  of  the  present  survey. 

ii — a 


164  HOMER.  [CH.   IV. 

Sum-  63.     Thus,   when   the   several   parts   of  the  Iliad  are 

theories  cons^ered  in  relation  to  each  other  and  to  the  whole,  the 
of  addi-    result  is  such  as  to  suggest  that  the  primary  Iliad  has  beer* 
)ns-       enlarged  by  a  series  of  additions,  made  at  successive  periods. 
To  the  earliest  period  belong   those   additions   which   are 
represented  by  books  2  to  7  and  12  to  15.     To  the  next 
period  belong,  probably,  books  8,  9,  23  (to  v.  256),  and  24. 
To  the  last  period  belong  book  10  and  the  greater  inter- 
polations. 

Age  and  It  may  now  be  asked  how  far  it  is  possible  to  conjec- 
ongm  of  ture  the  approximate  age  of  the  primary  Iliad,  and  what 
mary  relations  of  age  and  authorship  probably  subsist  between 
Iliad.  it  an(j  the  additions  of  the  earliest  period. 

Achilles  is  a  Thessalian  hero,  of  the  time  when  Achaean 
princes  ruled  in  Peloponnesus  and  over  a  great  part  of 
northern  Greece.  The  saga  which  the  Iliad  embodies  un- 
doubtedly belongs  to  Greece  Proper,  and  to  the  Achaean 
age.  The  Dorian  conquest  of  Peloponnesus  caused  a 
displacement  of  Achaean  population,  and  impelled  that 
tide  of  emigration  from  Greece  Proper  which  resulted  in 
the  settlement  of  Greek  colonies  on  the  western  coasts  of 
Asia  Minor.  The  eleventh  century  B.  c.  is  the  period 
traditionally  assigned  to  this  movement 

The  Ionian  emigrants  certainly  carried  with  them  the 
Achaean  legend  of  the  Iliad.  But  in  what  shape  did  they 
carry  it  ?  As  a  legend  not  yet  expressed  in  song  ?  Or  as 
a  legend  which  the  Achaean  bards  of  Greece  Proper  had 
already  embodied  in  comparatively  rude  and  short  lays?- 
Or,  lastly,  as  a  poem  of  matured  epic  form — our  Iliad,  or 
the  more  essential  parts  of  it  ? 

Argu-  64.     It   is   the   last   answer  which  is  usually  intended 

thenEu°r  when  ' the  European  origin '  of  the  Iliad  is  affirmed, 
ropean  Arguments  in  favour  of  the  European  origin  have  recently 
origm<  been  advanced  by  Mr  Monro,  to  the  following  effect1. 

1  'Homer  and  the  Early  History  of  Greece,'  in  the  English  His- 
torical Review,  No.  i,  Jan.,  1886. 


CH.  IV.]  THE    HOMERIC   QUESTION.  165 

Two  strata  of  mythical,  or  mythico-historical,  narrative  Two 
can  be  distinguished  in  the  Iliad.  First,  there  are  the 
heroes  of  the  Trojan  war.  Secondly,  there  are  heroes  in  the 
whom  local  traditions  in  Greece  connect  with  an  age  before 
the  Trojan  war.  Thus,  in  the  time  of  the  war,  Corinth  and 
Sicyon  are  under  the  rule  of  Agamemnon.  But  there  are 
also  notices  of  an  earlier  time,  when  Corinth  had  been 
subject  to  the  dynasty  represented  by  Sisyphus,  and  Sicyon 
to  the  dynasty  represented  by  Adrastus.  Now,  if  the  Iliad 
arose  in  Greece  Proper,  it  is  natural  that  the  poet  who 
knew  the  legends  of  Agamemnon's  empire  should  also 
know  the  older  local  legends,  and  should  be  able  to  use 
both  sets  of  legends  without  confusing  them.  But,  if  the 
Iliad  arose  in  Asia  Minor,  it  is  improbable  that  the  Ionian 
colonists,  who  carried  the  Achaean  legends  over  with  them, 
should  also  have  preserved  a  distinct  memory  of  the  older 
local  legends. 

65.  In  estimating  this  argument,  I  would  suggest  that  Estimate 
the  intellectual  feat  performed  by  the  Ionian  colonists,  on  °r '  1S 
the  hypothesis  of  an  Asiatic  origin  for  the  Iliad,  seems  ment. 
scarcely  so  difficult  as  the  argument  implies.  The  legends 
of  the  Trojan  war  were  presumably  not  the  only  legends 
which  Ionian  emigrants  would  carry  with  them  from  Greece 
to  Asia.  They  would  know  also  the  more  famous  local 
legends  of  Greece,  such  as  those  concerning  Sisyphus  of 
Corinth,  Adrastus  of  Sicyon,  or  the  Perseid  kings  of  Argos. 
The  references  in  the  Iliad  to  such  local  legends  are 
extremely  slight,  being  almost  limited,  indeed,  as  a  rule,  to 
the  mention  of  names.  Such  knowledge  might  very  easily 
have  been  preserved  by  tradition  through  several  generations 
of  colonists.  But  suppose  that  the  knowledge  shown  were 
much  fuller  and  more  precise  than  it  actually  is :  still  the 
particular  difficulty  in  question — that  of  keeping  two  sets  of 
legends  distinct — would  exist  only  if  the  legends  of  the 
Trojan  war  conflicted  with  the  local  legends  in  such  a 
manner  that  the  latter  would  have  been  likely  to  be 
obscured  by  the  greater  popularity  of  the  former,  unless 


l66  HOMER. 

kept  fresh  by  actual  residence  in  or  near  the  places  con- 
cerned. In  the  Iliad,  however,  there  is  no  conflict  of  this- 
nature  between  two  sets  of  legends.  At  the  most,  there  is  a 
distinction  between  Achaean  and  pre-Achaean  dynasties. 
And,  further,  the  clear  evidence  for  this  distinction  is 
confined  to  the  Catalogue  of  the  Greek  forces.  It  is  only 
the  Catalogue,  for  example,  that  represents  Agamemnon  as- 
ruling  directly  over  Corinth,  and  over  Sicyon,  'where 
Adrastus  formerly  reigned1.'  From  the  rest  of  the  Iliad  it 
appears  only  that  Agamemnon  has  the  seat  of  his  empire  at 
Mycenae,  and  exercises  the  authority  of  a  suzerain  over  a 
number  of  subordinate  kings  and  chiefs.  Apart  from  the 
Catalogue,  nothing  in  the  Iliad  is  incompatible  with  the 
supposition  that  the  immediate  ruler  of  Corinth,  under  the 
emperor  Agamemnon,  was  a  king  claiming  descent  from 
Sisyphus,  or  of  Sicyon,  a  king  claiming  descent  from 
Adrastus.  But  the  Catalogue  of  the  Greek  forces  was 
unquestionally  composed  in  Boeotia,  long  before  it  was 
inserted  in  the  Iliad.  So  far,  then,  as  a  distinction  between 
Achaean  and  pre-Achaean  dynasties  is  clearly  marked,  it  is 
due  to  a  poet  who  was  certainly  composing  in  Greece  Proper. 
The  ar-  66.  More  force  belongs  (in  my  opinion)  to  another 
head  of  argument  used  by  Mr  Monro,  which  concerns 


Homeric  inferences  that  may  be  drawn   from   Homeric  silence,  es- 
silence. 

1  //.  2.  572.  The  mention  of  Sisyphus  is  in  //.  6.  153.  —  Other 
instances  are  the  following,  (i)  Diomede  is  king  of  Argos  in  the 
Catalogue  (2.  563).  The  reign  of  Proetus  at  Argos  is  alluded  to  in. 
6.  157.  Sthenelus,  son  of  Perseus,  and  Eurystheus,  son  of  Sthenelus, 
are  referred  to  as  kings  of  Argos  in  19.  116  flf.  (Dr  Christ  regards  19. 
90  —  356  as  a  later  interpolation.)  (2)  The  Catalogue  makes  Thoas- 
leader  of  the  Aetolians,  —  remarking  that  Oeneus  and  his  sons  were  now- 
dead:  2.  638  ff.  (3)  The  Catalogue  mentions  Eurytus  as  a  former 
king  of  Oechalia  (2.  596),  but  represents  the  contingent  from  Oechalia 
as  led  by  the  sons  of  Asclepius,  —  Podaleirius  and  Machaon  (2.  732).  —  As 
to  Castor  and  Polydeuces,  the  Iliad  simply  notices  the  fact  of  their 
having  died  (3.  237).  Neither  in  it  nor  in  the  Odyssey  (u.  299)  do  they 
appear  as  representing  a  dynasty  of  kings,  anterior  to  the  Pelopid 
dynasty  which  began  with  Menelaus. 


CH.  IV.]  THE    HOMERIC   QUESTION.  167 

pecially  on  three  points,  (i)  Several  of  the  Ionian  colonies 
in  Asia  Minor  claimed  to  have  been  founded  by  Neleidae, 
descendants  of  the  Homeric  Nestor.  These  Neleidae,  the 
lonians  said,  had  removed  from  Pylus  to  Athens.  But  the 
Homeric  poems  nowhere  connect  Nestor's  family  with 
Athens.  If  the  Iliad  had  been  shaped  in  the  Ionian 
colonies,  the  link  between  Pylus  and  Athens  would  probably 
have  been  supplied,  (ii)  The  name  '  Ionian '  occurs  once 
(in  the  Iliad),  and  '  Dorian '  once  (in  the  Odyssey) ;  the 
name  'Aeolian '  is  unknown  to  Homer.  These  tribal  names 
could  hardly  have  failed  to  be  more  prominent  if  the  poems 
had  arisen  in  Asia  Minor,  (iii)  The  Greek  colonies  in  Asia 
Minor  are  ignored  by  the  Homeric  poems.  Even  the 
sequel  of  the  Trojan  war  concerns  European  Greece  alone. 
No  Homeric  hero  returns  to  Aeolis  or  Ionia.  In  one  of 
the  Cyclic  poems  (the  NoWoi),  on  the  other  hand,  Calchas 
goes  to  Colophon. 

67.     What  all  this  tends  to  show  is,  that   the  events,  Infer- 
persons  and  names  of  the  Trojan  legend  had  been  fixed,  1°""" 
from  a  time  before  the  Ionian  emigration,  in  such  a  manner  fixity  of 
that  poets   could  no   longer  venture   to   innovate  in   any 
essential  matter.     Suppose,  for  instance,  that  a  poet  living 
in  Asia  Minor  wished  to  create  Homeric  honours  for  his 
city  or  its  founders.  He  could  not  do  so,  because  every  one 
knew  that  the  authentic  Homer  did  not  recognise  that  city 
or  those  persons. 

The  question  is,  then, — Would  this  degree  of  fixity  have 
been  already  secured,  if  the  Achaean  legends  had  come  to 
Asia  Minor,  not  yet  in  a  matured  epic  form,  but  only  in  the 
shape  of  comparatively  rude  Aeolian  lays,  which  the  Ionian 
poets  afterwards  used  as  material  ? 

This  is  difficult  to  believe.  It  seems  to  me  hardly 
possible  to  explain  the  sustained  resistance  of  the  Homeric 
legend  to  the  intrusion  of  patriotic  anachronisms  except  on 
the  supposition  that  its  form  had  already  been  fixed,  in  the 
greater  lines,  before  it  arrived  in  Ionia.  And  Dr  Geddes 
has  shown  very  fully  how  strong  are  the  marks  of  a  Thessa- 


1 68  HOMER.  [CH.  IV. 

Thes-  lian  origin  in  certain  parts  of  the  Iliad.  The  area  over 
sahan  which  he  traces  them  is  that  of  Grote's  '  Achilleid  ', — books 
in  the  i,  8,  and  n  to  22.  But  it  will  be  found,  I  think,  that  the 

primary  a  within  which  such  marks  are  clearest  is  the  more 
Iliad. 

limited  one  of  our 'primary  Iliad] — books  T,  n,  and   16 

to  22. 

The  68.     These  conditions  of  the  problem  would  be  satisfied 

primary   by  a  hypothesis  which,  if  it  cannot  claim  to  be  more,  has  at 

perhaps   least  a  considerable  degree  of  probability  in  its  favour.     A 

Thes-      poet  living  in  Northern  Greece  may  have  composed  the 

substance  of  the  primary  Iliad, — books   i,   n,  and  those 

parts  of  books  16  to  22  which  are  essential  to  the  plan  of 

the  epic.     His  work  may  have  been  done  in  the  eleventh 

century  B.C.     The  epic  would  then  be  brought  by  emigrants 

from  Greece  to  Asia  Minor  with  its  form  already  fixed  to  an 

extent  which  would  exercise  a  general  control  over  subsequent 

enlargements.    The  silence  of  the  Iliad  on  the  points  noticed 

above  would  be  explained. 

The  It  is  impossible  to  say  with  any  exactness  what  would 

dialect     kave  been  the  complexion  of  the  dialect  used  by  a  Thessalian 

wards  I-  poet  circ.  noo — 1000  B.C.     But  it  is  at  least  certain  that  it 

omcised.  woui(j  have  had  a  large  number  of  word-forms  in  common 

with  the  Aeolic  of  the  historical  age,  since  Aeolic  was  the 

most  conservative  of  the  dialects  in  regard  to  the  oldest 

forms  of  the  language.     The  original,  or  Achaean,  dialect  of 

the  Iliad  would  in  Ionia  be  gradually  modified  under  loni- 

cising  influences,  through  Ionian  poets  who  enlarged  the 

epic,  and  rhapsodes   who   recited   it     It  would  thus   by 

degrees  assume  that  aspect  of  a  'mixed  dialect' — Ionic,  but 

with  an  Aeolic  tinge — which  it  now  presents,  and  which 

suggested  Pick's  theory  of  a  translation  from  Aeolic  into 

Ionic. 

Ancient         69.     Such  a  modification  of  dialect  would  not,  however, 

belief  suffice  to  explain  the  belief,  practically  universal  in  ancient 
in  an  * 

Asiatic     Greece,  which  associated  'Homer'  with  the  western  coasts 
Homer.    of  ^sja  ]y[{nor>   This  is  a  fact  with  which  we  have  to  reckon ; 
and  it  is  one  which  the  advocates  of  a  European  Homer 


CH.  IV.]  THE   HOMERIC   QUESTION.  169 

have  often  esteemed  too  lightly.  The  general  belief  of 
ancient  Greece,  has  a  significance  which  remains  unimpaired 
by  the  rejection  of  local  legends  connecting  Homer  with 
particular  cities.  The  case  is  not  that  of  a  chain  which  can 
be  no  stronger  than  its  weakest  link.  The  general  belief 
did  not  rest  on  the  aggregate  of  local  legends.  Rather,  the 
several  local  claimants  were  emboldened  to  display  their 
usually  slender  credentials,  because,  while  no  one  knew  the 
precise  birth-place  of  Homer,  most  people  were  agreed  that 
he  belonged  to  Asia  Minor.  We  know,  too,  that,  from 
about  800  B.C.,  at  least,  Ionia  was  pre-eminently  fertile  in 
epic  poetry.  It  was  also  the  mother-country  of  that  poetry 
which  came  next  after  the  epic  in  order  of  development, 
the  elegiac  and  iambic. 

70.  The    Asiatic    claim   to    Homer    seems,    however,  The  Eu- 
entirely  compatible  with  the  European  origin  of  the  Iliad.  r°Pean 
The  earliest  additions  are  probably  represented,  as  we  have  be  re- 
seen,  by  the  older  parts  of  books  2  to  7.     In  these  books  c"?ull^d 
we  can  trace  a  personal  knowledge  of  Asia  Minor.     It  is  in  Asiatic. 
them,  too,  that  we  meet  with  Sarpedon  and  Glaucus,  the 
leaders  of  the  southern  Lycians  (cp.  §  22),  whose  prominence 

is  probably  due  to  the  reputed  lineage  of  some  Ionian 
houses.  Book  12,  again,  shows  local  knowledge  of  Asia 
Minor;  Sarpedon  and  Glaucus  figure  in  it;  and  it  coheres 
closely  with  books  13,  14,  and  15.  The  older  parts  of 
books  2  to  7,  and  12  to  15,  may  have  been  added  in  Ionia 
at  a  very  early  date.  Books  8,  9,  23  (to  v.  256),  and  24 — 
in  parts  of  which  Ionian  traits  occur — were  also  of  Ionian 
authorship,  and  can  hardly  be  later  than  850 — 800  B.C. 

Thus,  while  the  primary  Iliad  was  Thessalian,  the 
enlarged  Iliad  would  have  been  known,  from  a  high 
antiquity,  as  Ionian. 

71.  In  books  2  to  7  (excluding  the  Catalogue)  at  least  Author- 
two  poets  have  wrought.    In  book  3  it  is  proposed  to  decide  the  ear- 

the  war  by  a  combat  of  two  heroes,  which  takes  place,  but  }ier  en' 

large- 
is  indecisive :  book  7  repeats  the  incident,  only  with  different  ments. 


1 70  HOMER.  [CH.  IV. 

persons.  Both  episodes  cannot  be  due  to  the  same  hand, 
and  that  in  book  7  is  probably  the  original.  Can  the  earlier 
poet  of  these  books  be  the  original  poet  of  the  primary ///<&/, 
working  under  the  influences  of  a  new  home  in  Ionia?  It 
is  possible ;  and  the  possibility  must  be  estimated  from  an 
ancient  point  of  view:  the  ancient  epic  poet  composed  with 
a  view  to  recitation;  only  limited  portions  of  his  work  could 
be  heard  at  a  time;  and  he  would  feel  free  to  add  new 
episodes,  so  long  as  they  did  not  mar  his  general  design. 
But,  though  possible,  it  seems  very  improbable,  if  the  primary 
Iliad  was  indeed  a  product  of  Northern  Greece.  A  poet 
who  had  migrated  thence  would  have  been  unlikely  to  show 
such  sympathy  with  Ionian  life  and  tradition  as  can  be  traced 
in  the  allusions  and  persons  of  these  books. 

With  regard  to  books  12  to  15,  many  features  of  their 
economy,  as  well  as  the  pervading  style  and  spirit,  seem  to 
warrant  the  opinion  that  their  author,  or  authors,  though 
highly  gifted,  had  no  hand  in  the  primary  Iliad.  Whether 
he,  or  they,  bore  any  part  in  the  composition  of  books 
2  to  7,  there  is  nothing  to  show.  Judging  by  the  evidence 
of  style  and  tone,  I  should  say,  probably  not.  We  have 
seen  that  books  8  and  9  may  be  assigned  to  a  distinct 
author,  who  probably  composed  also  the  older  parts  of  24, 
and  perhaps  of  23. 

Predo-  72.     If,  however,  the  primary  Iliad  is  rightly  ascribed  to 

minant    one  pog^  the  attempt  to  define  the  partnership  of  different 

cance  of  hands  in  the  enlargement  has  only  a  diminished  interest;  as 

the  first    jt  can  hav6j  at  best,  only  a  very  indecisive  result.    However 

eminent  were  the  gifts  of  the  enlargers,  it  is  to  the  poet  of 

the  primary  Iliad,  if  to  any  one,  that  the  name  of  Homer 

belongs,  so  far  as  that  epic  is  concerned.     It  seems  vain  to 

conjecture  what  relations  existed  between  this  first  poet  and 

the  enlargers  of  his  work.     There  is  no  real  evidence  for  a 

clan  or  guild  of  'Homeridae,'  whom  many  critics  (including 

Dr   Christ)   have   conceived   as   poets   standing    in    some 

peculiarly  near  relationship  to  Homer,  and  as,  in  a  manner, 


CH.   IV.]  THE    HOMERIC    QUESTION.  171 

the  direct  inheritors  of  his  art,  in  contradistinction  to  later 
and  alien  poets  or  rhapsodes  who  also  contributed  to  the 
Iliad.  As  to  the  original  'rhapsodies'  or  cantos  in  which 
the  poem  was  composed,  every  attempt  to  determine  their 
precise  limits  is  (in  my  belief)  foredoomed  to  failure.  In 
some  particular  instances  the  result  may  be  accurate,  or 
nearly  so.  But  a  complete  dissection  of  the  Iliad  into  cantos 
must  always  be  largely  guess-work. 

73.  The  argument  noticed  above,  derived  from  Homeric 
silence  regarding  the  Asiatic  colonies  and  the  tribal  names,  ^rri?in 
applies  to  the  Odyssey  no  less  than  to  the  Iliad.     From  a  Odyssey. 
date  prior  to  the  settlement  of  the  Asiatic  colonies  the  form 

of  the  story  was  probably  so  far  fixed  as  to  preclude  such 
references. 

It  appears  probable  that  the  original '  Return  of  Odysseus' 
was  a  poem  of  small  compass,  composed,  before  the  Ionian 
migration,  in  Greece  Proper,  though  not  with  any  close 
knowledge  of  Ithaca  and  the  western  coasts  (cp.  p.  44). 
Having  been  brought  to  Ionia  by  the  colonists,  it  was  there 
greatly  enlarged. 

74.  The  broad  difference  between  the  case  of  the  Iliad  Ionian 
and  that  of  the  Odyssey  may  be  expressed  by  saying  that  the  devel°P- 
latter,   in   its   present   form,   is  far  more   thoroughly  and  the 
characteristically  Ionian.     One  cause  of  this  may  be  that  Poem- 
the  original  'Return  of  Odysseus' — native  to  Greece  Proper 

— bore  a  much  less  important  relation  to  the  final  Ionian 
form  of  the  poem  than  the  primary  Thessalian  Iliad  bore  to 
the  Ionian  enlargement  This,  indeed,  would  almost  follow 
from  the  respective  natures  of  the  two  themes,  if  the  com- 
pass of  the  primary  Iliad  was  rightly  indicated  above  (§  57). 
The  original  'Return  of  Odysseus'  secured  fixity  of  general 
conception  sufficiently  to  exclude  allusions  to  the  Ionian 
colonies,  and  the  like.  But  it  left  a  much  larger  scope  for 
expansion,  under  specially  Ionian  influences,  than  the 
primary  Iliad  had  left.  The  subject  of  the  Odyssey  was 
essentially  congenial  to  lonians,  with  their  love  of  maritime 


172  HOMER.  [CH.  IV. 

adventure,  and  their  peculiar  sympathy  with  the  qualities 
personified  in  the  hero.  The  poem  shows  a  familiar  know- 
ledge of  Delos — the  sacred  island  to  which  lonians  annually 
repaired  for  the  festival  of  Apollo — and  of  the  Asiatic  coast 
adjacent  to  Chios.  Still  more  significant  is  the  Ionian 
impress  which  the  Odyssey  bears  as  a  whole, — in  the  tone  of 
thought  and  feeling,  in  the  glimpses  of  distant  voyages, 
and  in  the  gentle  graces  of  domestic  life. 

Author-  75.  While  few  careful  readers  can  doubt  that  the  Odyssey, 
p*  as  it  stands,  has  been  put  together  by  one  man,  there  are 
parts  which  more  or  less  clearly  reveal  themselves  as  additions 
to  an  earlier  form  of  the  poem:  especially  the  'Telemachy' 
(books  i — 4),  the  latter  part  of  book  23  (from  v.  297),  and 
book  24.  I  believe,  with  Kirchhoff,  that  the  original 
'Return'  existed  in  an  enlarged  Ionian  form,  before  the 
present,  or  finally  enlarged,  form  was  given  to  it  by  another 
and  later  Ionian  hand.  But  I  much  doubt  whether  the 
original  limits  of  the  'Return',  and  of  the  first  enlargement, 
can  now  be  determined. 

Rela-  76.     If  any  reliance  can  be  placed  on  internal  evidence,  it 

ti°'i,S  v,  may  k£  tt>l^en  as  certaui  trjat  the  poet  of  the  primary  Iliad 
Iliad.  had  no  share  in  the  authorship  of  the  Odyssey.  The  differ- 
ences of  style,  versification,  and  spirit  are  not  merely  of  a 
nature  which  could  be  explained  by  difference  of  subject ; 
the  more  these  differences  are  considered,  the  more  con- 
vincingly do  they  attest  the  workings  of  a  different  mind. 
It  is,  however,  quite  possible,  and  not  improbable,  that 
the  Ionian  poet  (or  poets)  who  enlarged  the  Odyssey  had 
a  hand  in  the  enlargement  of  the  Iliad.  But,  though  un- 
mistakeable  affinities  of  language  and  manner  can  be  traced 
between  the  Odyssey  and  later  parts  of  the  Iliad  (especially 
books  9  and  24),  we  still  seem  to  be  left  without  adequate 
evidence  on  which  to  found  a  presumption  of  personal 
identity. 

Age  of          With  regard  to  the  age  of  the  Odyssey,  we  may  sup- 
Odyssey.  pose  that  the  original  'Return'  was  composed  in  Greece 


CH.  IV.]  THE    HOMERIC   QUESTION.  173 

Proper  as  early  as  the  eleventh  century  B.C.,  and  that  the 
first  enlargement  had  been  made  before  850  B.C.  The 
Cyclic  Little  Iliad  (circ.  700  B.C.)  showed  the  influence  of 
the  Odyssey ;  but  the  only  Cyclic  poem  which  implies  an 
Odyssey  complete  in  its  present  compass  is  the  Telegoniat 
which  dated  only  from  the  earlier  half  of  the  sixth  century 
B.C.  It  cannot  be  shown,  then,  that  Kirchhoff  has  gone  too 
low  in  assigning  circ.  660  B.C.  as  the  date  of  the  second 
enlargement 

77.  In  the  foregoing  pages  the  endeavour  has  been  to  Conclu. 
present  a  connected  view  of  the  probabilities  concerning  Slon 
the  Homeric  question,  as  they  now  appear  to  me.  That 
view  differs,  as  a  whole,  from  any  which  (so  far  as  I  know) 
has  yet  been  stated,  but  harmonises  several  elements  which 
have  been  regarded  as  essential  by  others.  Care  has  been 
taken  to  distinguish  at  each  step  (as  far  as  possible)  between 
what  is  reasonably  certain,  and  what  is  only  matter  of 
conjecture,  recommended  by  a  greater  or  less  degree  of 
likelihood  The  limits  within  which  any  definite  solution 
of  the  Homeric  problem  is  possible  have  been  more  clearly 
marked — as  we  have  seen — by  the  labours  of  successive 
scholars;  and,  with  regard  to  these  general  limits,  there 
is  now  comparatively  little  divergence  of  opinion.  But 
the  details  of  a  question  in  which  the  individual  literary 
sense  has  so  large  a  scope  must  continue  to  wear  different 
aspects  for  different  minds.  There  is  little  prospect  of 
any  general  agreement  as  to  what  is  exactly  the  best 
mode  of  co-ordinating  the  generally  accepted  facts  or 
probabilities.  Where  certainty  is  unattainable,  caution 
might  prescribe  a  merely  negative  attitude;  but  an  ex- 
plicit hypothesis,  duly  guarded,  has  at  least  the  ad- 
vantage of  providing  a  basis  for  discussion.  The  reader 
is  induced  to  consider  how  far  he  agrees,  or  dissents,  and 
so  to  think  for  himself.  It  is  possible  that  the  progress 
of  Homeric  study  may  yet  throw  some  further  light  on 


174  HOMER.  [CH.   IV. 

matters  which  are  now  obscure.  The  best  hope  of  such 
a  gain  depends  on  the  continued  examination  of  the 
Homeric  text  itself,  in  regard  to  contents,  language,  and 
style. 


APPENDIX. 

NOTE  i,  p.  61. 

THE   HOUSE   AT  TIRYNS. 

THE  ancient  fortress  of  Tiryns  stood  in  the  S.  E.  corner  of  the  plain  of 
Argos,  about  £  of  a  mile  from  the  shores  of  the  Gulf.  It  was  built  on 
a  limestone  rock,  which  forms  a  ridge  measuring  about  328  yards  from 
N.  to  S.,  with  an  average  breadth  of  about  109  yards.  The  upper  part 
of  the  citadel  was  at  the  southern  end,  where  the  rock  is  highest.  The 
lower  citadel  was  at  the  northern  end.  The  upper  and  lower  citadels 
were  separated  by  a  section  of  the  rocky  pkteau  to  which  stairs  led 
down  from  the  upper  citadel,  and  which  has  been  designated  as  the 
middle  citadel. 

The  excavations  of  Dr  Schliemann  have  been  confined  to  the  upper 
and  the  middle  citadel.  The  exploration  of  the  site  thus  remains  in- 
complete. The  lower  citadel  still  awaits  an  explorer.  In  the  opinion 
of  some  who  can  judge,  an  excavation  of  the  lower  citadel  would 
probably  reveal  the  existence  of  chambers  at  a  greater  depth  than  has 
yet  been  reached.  Every  one  must  share  the  hope  expressed  by  the 
correspondent  of  the  Times  (April  24,  1886),  that  this  task  may  some 
day  be  undertaken.  It  is  in  the  lower  citadel,  as  the  same  writer 
observes,  that  the  true  key  to  the  archaic  history  of  the  site  may 
possibly  be  found. 

The  only  Homeric  mention  of  Tiryns  is  in  the  Catalogue  of  the 
Greek  forces,  which,  as  we  have  seen  (p.  42),  was  mainly  the  work 
of  a  Boeotian  poet  He  is  enumerating  the  cities  whose  men  were 
led  by  Diomede  and  Sthenelus  (//.  t.  559) : — 

ot  5'  "Apyos  T   elxov  Tipw6d.  re  reix^effffav. 

The  whole  citadel  of  Tiryns  is  still  encompassed  by  those  massive 
walls  to  which  the  epithet  refers.  They  are  formed  of  huge  irregular 
blocks  of  limestone,  piled  on  one  another,  the  interstices  being  filled 
with  small  stones.  It  had  always  been  supposed  that,  in  such 
'Cyclopean'  walls  the  stones  were  unhewn,  and  were  not  bound  by 


176 


HOMER. 


mortar,  being  kept  in  position  simply  by  their  great  weight.  In  both 
particulars  the  general  belief  has  been  corrected  by  the  recent  ex- 
amination of  the  walls  at  Tiryns.  It  now  appears  that  almost  all  the 
stones,  before  being  used,  had  been  wrought  with  a  pick-hammer  on 
one  or  several  faces,  and  thus  roughly  dressed;  also  that,  as  Dr  F. 
Adler  had  surmised,  a  clay  mortar  had  been  used  for  bonding. 

The  remains  of  a  Byzantine  Church,  and  of  some  Byzantine  tombs, 
exist  at  the  S.  end  of  the  plateau  of  the  upper  citadel.  At  his  earlier 
visit  to  Tiryns,  Dr  Schliemann  was  disposed  to  think,  from  indications 
on  the  surface,  that  the  other  remains,  which  he  has  since  laid  bare, 
must  be  also  Byzantine.  These  consist  of  house-walls,  which  now 
stand  nowhere  more  than  about  a  yard  above  the  ground,  while  in 
some  parts  the  destruction  has  been  complete.  From  these  remains, 
Dr  Dorpfeld,  the  architect  employed  by  Dr  Schliemann,  has  restored 
the  ground-plan  of  the  original  house,  as  shown  in  the  accompanying 
sketch.  Dr  Dorpfeld  supposes  the  house  to  have  been  built  by 


THE  HOUSE  AT  TIRYNS. 

Phoenicians,  about  noo  B.C.,  or  earlier.  Mr  J.  C.  Penrose  formerly 
urged  several  objections  to  so  early  a  date.  The  substance  of  his  argu- 
ment was  reported  in  the  Times  of  July  i,  1886,  from  which  extracts 
were  here  cited  in  the  previous  editions  of  this  book.  The  points  on 
which  he  dwelt  were  chiefly  three  :— (i)  'A  fundamental  difference  in 
character  of  work'  between  the  'so-called  palace  at  Tiryns'  and  the 


APPENDIX.  177 

really  prehistoric  work  at  Mycenae,  such  as  the  'Treasury  of  Athens' 
and  the  Gate  of  Lions.  (2)  Traces  of  the  stone-saw  '  all  over  the 
newly-discovered  remains.'  (3)  The  presence  of  baked  bricks,  which, 
'  in  the  opinion  of  an  experienced  brickmaker,'  could  not  have  been 
brought  into  that  state  simply  by  a  fire  in  which  the  house  was  burned 
down,  if  they  had  originally  been  raw  bricks — as  they  ought  to  have 
been,  on  the  prehistoric  hypothesis.  But  Mr  Penrose  has  since  revisited 
the  remains,  under  the  guidance  of  Dr  Dorpfeld,  and  has  waived  these 
objections  (Athenaeum,  Nov.  12,  1887).  The  advocates  of  a  'pre- 
historic '  date  are  fully  entitled  to  all  the  benefit  of  such  a  recantation. 
If  the  question  as  to  the  age  of  the  remains  is  ever  to  be  settled,  it  can 
only  be  settled  by  persons  specially  versed  in  ancient  wall-building. 
But  the  impression  left  on  most  minds  by  the  discussion,  so  far  as  it  has 
yet  gone,  will  be  that  there  is  ample  room  for  disagreement,  even  among 
the  most  skilful.  The  architectural  evidence  is  not  only  scanty,  but  is 
disastrously  confused  by  the  presence  of  'some  walls'  (to  quote  Mr 
Penrose's  most  recent  opinion)  '  clearly  of  later  date,  which  interfere 
with  the  proper  ground-plan.'  The  latest  utterance  of  an  expert  is 
Mr  Stillman's  (Times,  Jan.  9,  1888),  who  refers  to  the  arguments  for  a 
Byzantine  date. 

It  is  perhaps  hardly  necessary  for  the  present  writer  to  observe  that 
he  has  never  advanced  any  opinion  whatever  on  this  architectural  ques- 
tion, as  to  the  age  of  the  remains  at  Tiryns.  For  the  purpose  of  this 
Note,  it  is  immaterial  whether  the  older  house-walls  at  Tiryns  are 
Phoenician,  of  noo  B.C.,  or  Greek,  of  any  period.  The  question 
with  which  this  Note  deals  is  solely  the  relation  of  the  remains  at 
Tiryns  to  Homeric  evidence. 

It  is  affirmed  by  Dr  Schliemann  and  Dr  Dorpfeld  that  the  houses 
of  the  Homeric  age,  so  far  as  they  are  known  from  Homer,  were 
on  the  same  general  plan  as  the  house  at  Tiryns.  Now,  the 
house  of  Odysseus  in  the  Odyssey  is  the  only  Homeric  house  con- 
cerning which  we  have  data  of  a  kind  which  enables  us  to  form 
a  tolerably  complete  idea  of  the  interior  arrangements.  Confirmatory 
evidence  on  some  points,  and  additional  light  on  others,  may  be 
gathered  from  the  houses  of  Menelaus  and  Alcinous.  These  houses 
appear  to  represent  the  same  general  ground-plan.  But  the  house  of 
Odysseus  is  not  merely  described  in  more  detail  than  the  others.  It 
happens  also  to  be  the  scene  of  an  elaborate  domestic  drama,  occupying 
several  books  of  the  Odyssey.  We  have  thus  a  searching  test  by  which 
to  try  the  correctness  of  any  notions  which  we  may  have  formed  as  to 
the  plan  of  that  house.  The  true  plan  must  be  such  as  to  make  the 
house  a  possible  theatre  for  that  drama. 

Let  the  matter  at  issue  be  distinctly  understood,  since  some 
confusion  about  it  is  traceable  in  Dr  Schliemann's  book  Tiryns,  as  well 

J.  12 


178  HOMER. 

as  in  the  utterances  of  those  who  maintain  his  theory.  If  the  Homeric 
indications  do  not  agree  with  the  house  at  Tiryns,  that  fact  does  not,  of 
itself,  prove  that  the  house  is  not  of  the  Homeric  (or  pre-Homeric)  age. 
No  one  would  contend  that  all  the  houses  of  that  age  must  have  been 
built  on  exactly  the  same  plan.  But  in  Tiryns  (p.  227)  appeal  is  made 
specifically  to  the  house  of  Odysseus.  It  is  argued  that  the  plan  of  that 
house  was  in  general  agreement  with  the  plan  found  at  Tiryns,  and 
that  the  drama  enacted  in  it  could  have  been  enacted  at  Tiryns. 

Now,  the  evidence  of  the  Odyssey  proves  that  the  poet  had  in  his 
mind  a  house  of  an  entirely  different  kind  from  the  house  at  Tiryns. 
The  difference  is  not  merely  a  variation  of  detail.  It  is  a  difference  of 
type. 

Dr  Dorpfeld  speaks  with  acknowledged  weight  when  he  speaks  as 
an  architect  on  a  question  of  ancient  architecture.  But  the  attempt  to 
dispose  of  the  literary  evidence  of  the  Odyssey  to  which  he  devotes 
a  few  lines  at  p.  227  of  Tiryns  is  grotesquely  superficial.  It  could  not 
have  been  offered,  or  accepted,  by  any  one  who  had  even  a  rudimentary 
idea  of  what  is  meant  by  an  adequate  examination  of  literary  evidence. 
He  notices  only  five  verses  in  the  whole  epic.  Of  these  five  verses, 
four  (i.  333,  16.  415,  18.  209,  21.  64)  are  simply  the  oft-repeated 

ffrij  pa.  irapa,  ffra.6fj.bv  rtyeos  WUKO.  iroirjToio. 

On  this,  he  merely  asserts,  without  attempting  to  prove,  that  the  door 
at  the  lower  end  of  the  hall  is  intended.  The  other  verse  (since  he 
thus  has  really  only  two)  is  21.  236,  where,  before  the  slaying  of  the 
suitors,  Eurycleia  is  commanded 

K\TJiffa.i.  fj.e-ya.poio  0tfpa$  TTVKIVWS  apapvlas. 

On  this,. he  remarks  that  there  is  nothing  to  show  that  these  doors 
opened  on  the  hall;  and  that  the  object  of  closing  them  was,  '  not  to 
keep  the  suitors  from  escaping,  but  to  keep  the  women  undisturbed 
within.' 

In  a  foot-note  on  the  same  page  (227)  another  passage  is  adduced 
from  Od.  6.  50  ff.,  where  it  is  said  that  Nausicaa,  after  finding  her 
mother  at  the  hearth,  met  with  (£iV/3\?7To)  her  father  as  he  was  going 
forth  to  the  council.  This  argument  assumes  that  the  hearth  at  which 
Nausicaa  found  her  mother  was  in  the  women's  apartments,  and  that,  as 
Nausicaa,  coming  thence,  'met'  her  father  leaving  the  house,  she 
entered  the  hall  by  the  door  from  the  court.  The  answer  is  furnished 
by  Od.  7.  i39ff.  We  find  Arete  and  Alcinous  sitting  together  in  the 
men's  hall  near  the  texa-pa  at  its  upper  end, — where  Penelope  also  sits 
in  20.  55,  and  where  Helen  joins  Menelaus  (4.  121).  Nausicaa,  on 
awaking,  wishes  to  tell  her  dream  to  her  parents.  She  goes  did 
5u/j.ara,  'through  the  house,'  from  her  own  bed-chamber  in  the  women's 
apartments,  to  the  men's  hall, — the  door  between  them  being  open.  In 
the  hall  she  finds  her  mother.  Her  father  she  found,  we  may  suppose, 


APPENDIX.  179 

in  the  prodomus  or  in  the  aule,  'about  to  go  forth.'  We  cannot  press 
£i//x/3\i7To  as  if  it  necessarily  implied  that  the  two  persons  were  moving 
in  exactly  contrary  directions.  It  means  simply  'fell  in  with,'  'chanced 
to  find.' 

The  evidence  of  the  Odyssey  on  this  question  is  not  to  be  gauged  by 
three  phrases  isolated  from  their  context,  and  interpreted  in  a  fashion 
at  once  dogmatic  and  unsound.  It  must  be  tested  by  a  close  and 
consecutive  examination  of  the  whole  story,  so  far  as  it  can  illustrate 
the  plan  of  the  house.  Such  an  examination  I  have  attempted  to  make 
in  the  Journal  of  Hellenic  Studies,  vol.  VI I.  p.  170  ('The  Homeric 
House  in  relation  to  the  Remains  at  Tiryns'). 

Reference  to  the  accompanying  plan  will  show  that  the  house  at 
Tiryns  has  certain  general  features  in  common  with  the  Homeric  house. 
The  Homeric  vpoOvpov,  or  front  gateway  of  the  court,  is  represented  at 
Tiryns  by  a  propylaeum, — a  kind  of  gateway  formed  by  placing  two 
porticoes  back  to  back, — which  in  Greece  had  not  hitherto  been  found 
before  the  5th  century  B.C.  At  Tiryns  we  have  also  a  court-yard  (avAi}) — 
called  the  'Men's  Fore-Court'  in  the  plan — with  porticoes  (aWovyai). 
The  prodomus,  however,  is  not,  at  Tiryns,  the  space  covered  by  the 
aWovaa.,  or  portico,  but  a  distinct  room  beyond  it  (called  'Vestibule'  in 
the  plan).  Then  there  is  the  great  hall, — the  'Men's  Megaron'  in  the 
plan.  So  far  there  is  a  resemblance,  though  only  of  the  most  general 
kind. 

But  we  now  come  to  a  difference  much  more  striking  and  essential 
than  the  points  of  likeness.  At  Tiryns  the  men's  hall  has  no  outlet 
except  the  door  by  which  it  is  entered  from  the  'Vestibule.'  The 
women's  apartments  are  identified  with  a  second  and  smaller  hall, 
completely  isolated  from  the  other,  which  has  its  own  vestibule,  its  own 
court,  and  its  own  egress. 

There  is  nothing  whatever  to  show  that  this  smaller  hall  and 
court  really  belonged  to  women.  The  more  reasonable  supposition 
would  be  that  they  belonged  to  a  second  and  smaller  house,  dis- 
tinct from  the  larger  house.  The  arbitrary  manner  in  which  such 
theories  can  be  formed  or  changed  is  curiously  illustrated  at  p.  224  of 
Tiryns.  At  Hissarlik  in  the  Troad,  as  at  Tiryns,  there  are  the  remains 
of  two  buildings,  a  larger  and  a  smaller,  side  by  side.  After  pro- 
pounding other  views  about  them,  Dr  Schliemann  had  decided  in 
Troja  that  they  were  to  be  temples.  But,  because  the  smaller  court 
at  Tiryns  is  to  be  the  women's  court,  Dr  Dorpfeld  now  says  that  the 
larger  building  at  Hissarlik  was  a  dwelling  for  men,  and  the  smaller 
building  beside  it  a  dwelling  for  women.  He  doubts,  however, 
whether  the  smaller  building  at  Hissarlik  was  not  'a  smaller  men's 
house'  (p.  224).  Why,  then,  should  not  the  smaller  court  at  Tiryns  be 
a  smaller  men's  court  ? 

12 — 2 


l8o  HOMEK. 

From  the  men's  hall  at  Tiryns  to  the  so-called  women's  hall  the 
only  modes  of  access  were  by  very  circuitous  and  intricate  routes. 
They  are  thus  described  by  Dr  Dorpfeld  (Tiryns,  p.  236)  : — 'In  the 
north-west  part  of  the  palace  lies  a  small  court,  with  colonnades  and 
adjoining  rooms,  which  has  no  direct  connection  with  the  main  court ; 
it  is  the  court  of  the  women's  dwelling.  You  must  pass  many  doors 
and  corridors  to  reach  this  inner  part  of  the  palace.  There  appear  to 
have  been  three  ways  of  reaching  it.  First,  from  the  back-hall  of  the 
great  Propylaeum,  through  the  long  passage  XXXVI.,  to  the  colonnade 
XXXI. ;  and  from  this,  through  the  outer  court  XXX.,  to  the  east 
colonnade  of  the  women's  court.  Secondly,  you  could  go  from  the 
great  court  or  from  the  megaron,  past  the  bath-room,  into  corridor 
XII.,  and  then  through  passages  XIV.,  XV.,  and  XIX.,  to  reach  the 
vestibule  of  the  women's  apartments.  A  third  way  probably  went  from 
the  east  colonnade  of  the  great  court,  through  room  XXXIII.,  into  the 
colonnade  XXI.,  and  then  along  the  first  way  into  the  court  of  the 
women's  apartments.  All  these  three  approaches  are  stopped  in 
several  places  by  doors,  and  the  women's  apartment  was  therefore  quite 
separated  from  the  great  hall  of  the  men's  court.' 

The  above  three  routes  can  readily  be  traced  on  our  plan  by 
means  of  the  Arabic  numerals  which  I  have  placed  to  represent 
Dr  Dorpfeld's  Roman  numerals: — (i)  for  the  first  route, — 36,  31, 
30:  (2)  for  the  second,  12,  14,  15,  19:  (3)  for  the  third,  33,  31,  30. 

In  the  house  of  Odysseus,  on  the  contrary,  the  women's  apartments 
were  immediately  behind  the  men's  hall,  and  directly  communicated 
with  it  by  a  door.  This  is  proved  by  many  passages,  among  which  are 
the  following. 

.1.  In  book  17  Odysseus  comes  to  his  house  in  the  guise  of 
an  aged  beggar.  Telemachus,  to  whom  alone  the  secret  is  known,  is 
in  the  great  hall  with  the  suitors.  Odysseus,  with  the  humility  proper 
to  his  supposed  quality,  sits  down  'on  the  threshold  of  ash,  within  the 
doors'  (17.  339) : 

Tfe  8'  ^?ri  fj.e\lvov  ovSou  t-vTOffde  dvpiuv, 

i.e.  at  the  lower  end  of  the  hall,  on  the  threshold  of  the  doorway 
leading  into  it  from  the  prodomus.  The  suitors  who,  with  their  retinue, 
numbered  about  a  hundred  and  twenty,  were  feasting  at  a  series  of 
small  tables,  which  may  be  imagined  as  arranged  in  two  rows  from  end 
to  end  of  the  hall,  leaving  in  the  middle  a  free  space  in  which  the 
twelve  axes  were  afterwards  set  up.  Telemachus  sends  food  to  Odysseus, 
with  a  message  that  he  should  advance  into  the  hall,  and  beg  alms  from 
table  to  table  among  the  suitors.  Odysseus  does  so ;  and,  while  he  is 
thus  engaged,  one  of  the  suitors,  Antinous,  strikes  him.  Odysseus 
then  returns  to  his  place  on  the  ashen  threshold.  Meanwhile  Penelope 


APPENDIX.  l8l 

is  sitting  among  her  handmaids  in  the  women's  apartments  (17.  505). 
She  hears — doubtless  through  one  of  the  women-servants — of  the  blow 
dealt  by  Antinous  to  the  humble  stranger ;  and  she  sends  to  the  hall 
for  Eumaeus.  When  he  comes,  she  desires  him  to  go  and  bring  the 
mendicant  into  her  presence.  He  delivers  her  message  to  Odysseus, 
who  is  still  seated  on  the  ashen  threshold.  Odysseus  replies  that  he 
would  gladly  go  to  Penelope;  'but,'  he  adds,  'I  somewhat  fear  the 

throng  of  the  froward  wooers For  even  now,  as  I  was  going 

through  the  hall,  when  yon  man  struck  me,  and  pained  me  sore, — 
though  I  had  done  no  wrong, — neither  Telemachus  nor  anyone  else 
came  to  my  aid.'  That  is,  he  declines  to  go  to  Penelope,  because,  in 
order  to  reach  her  apartments,  he  would  have  to  pass  up  the  hall,  among 
the  suitors,  one  of  whom  had  already  insulted  him. 

«.  The  supposed  mendicant  is  then  accommodated  for  the  night 
with  a  rough  'shake-down'  in  the  prodomus — the  fore-hall  or  vestibule 
of  the  megaron.  As  he  lies  awake  there,  he  observes  some  of  the 
handmaids  pass  forth  from  the  men's  hall  (20.  6) : — 

KCLT   typijyopouv  ral  5*  £K  neydpoio  yvvaiKtt 
ij'iffav. 

But,  after  escorting  Penelope  to  the  interview  with  the  stranger  in  the 
hall,  they  had  returned  to  the  women's  apartments  (19.  60).  Thus 
again  it  appears  that  the  direct  way  from  the  women's  apartments  to 
the  court  lay  through  the  men's  hall. 

3.  The  next  day,  while  the  suitors  are  revelling  in  the  hall,  and 
taunting  Telemachus,  Penelope  is  sitting,  as  before,  in  the  women's 
apartments.     She  is  not  in  her  own  room  on  the  upper  storey,  to  which 
she   presently  ascends   (21.    5),   but  on  the  ground-floor,    level   with 
the  hall.     She  places  her  chair  'over  against'  the  hall  (KOT  i.vn\<m.v, 
20.   387),   i.e.  close  to  the  wall  dividing  the  hall  from  the  women's 
apartments;  and  thus  'she  heard  the  words  of  each  one  of  the  men  in 
the  hall'  (20.  389).     Similarly  in  17.  541,  being  in  the  women's  apart- 
ments, she  heard  Telemachus  sneeze  in  the  hall.     Such  incidents  would 
be  impossible  in  a  house  of  the  type  supposed  at  Tiryns. 

4.  In  preparation  for  the  slaying  of  the  suitors,  Odysseus  and  his 
son  decide  to  remove  the  arms  from  the  hall,  and  to  carry  them  to  a 
room  in  the  inner  part  of  the  house.     That  such  was  the  position  of  the 
armoury  is  made  certain  by  the  phrases  used  with  regard  to  it, — ttffu 
(ig.  4),   tfftfrbpfov  (19.  32),  tvSov  (22.   140).     But,  before  doing  this, 
Telemachus,  in  the  hall,  'called  forth'  the  nurse  Eurycleia  (19.  15),  and 
said  to  her:    'Shut  up  the  women  in  their  chambers,  till  I  shall  have 
laid  by  in  the  armoury  the  goodly  weapons  of  my  father.'     Thereupon 
'she  closed  the  doors  of  the  chambers'  (19.  30),  and  the  removal  of  the 
arms  was  effected.      Whence   was   Eurycleia    'called   forth'  into  the 


182  HOMER. 

hall  ?  Evidently  from  the  women's  apartments  immediately  behind  it, 
as  in  the  similar  case  at  21.  378.  The  doors  which  she  closed  were 
those  leading  from  the  women's  apartments  into  the  hall.  The  arms 
were  then  taken  from  the  hall  to  the  armoury  by  a  side-passage  (to  be 
noticed  presently),  which  ran  along  the  wall  on  the  outside. 

5.  The  threshold  on  which  Odysseus  first  sat  is  called,  as  we  have 
seen,  the  threshold  of  ash  (fj.t\ivos),  and  was  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
hall  (17.  339).  Next  day,  Telemachus  makes  him  sit  down  'by  the 
stone  threshold'  (wapci.  \aivov  oiid&v,  20.  258),  which  was  clearly  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  hall.  The  stone  threshold  is  that  which  Penelope 
crosses  in  passing  from  the  women's  apartments  to  the  hall  (23.  88). 
Odysseus  is  still  sitting  by  the  stone  threshold,  when  Eumaeus  comes  to 
his  side,  and  calls  forth  Eurycleia  from  the  women's  apartments, — 
another  indication  that  the  door  opening  upon  those  apartments  was  at 
the  upper  end  of  the  hall. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  we  can  obviate  the  difficulty  of  supposing 
the  women's  apartments  at  Tiryns  to  have  had  no  communication  with 
the  men's  except  by  circuitous  routes,  if  we  imagine  that,  in  a  side- wall 
of  the  men's  hall,  on  the  right  hand  of  a  person  entering  it,  there  once 
existed  a  side-door,  raised  some  feet  above  the  level  of  the  floor,  and  no 
longer  traceable  in  the  existing  remains  of  the  house-walls,  which  are 
nowhere  more  than  about  a  yard  in  height.  Such  a  side-door  is 
mentioned  in  Od.  12.  126:  dpffodtiptj  5t  ns  taKev  KS^ririf  i 
This  dpffodvpi),  or  'raised  postern,"  opened  upon  a  passage 
which  ran  along  the  outside  of  the  hall.  (See  the  plan  at  p.  58.) 

Let  us  suppose,  then,  that  such  an  6p<rod6pr)  once  existed  at  Ti  17115, 
though  no  trace  of  it  is  now  visible.  It  would  have  necessarily  been 
the  usual  mode  of  access  from  the  women's  to  the  men's  hall,  as  being, 
at  Tiryns,  the  only  one  which  was  not  extremely  circuitous.  To  it, 
therefore,  we  should  have  to  refer  the  often-repeated  phrase  concerning 
Penelope  as  she  enters  the  men's  hall  from  the  women's  apartments : 
ffrfj  pa  Trapot  ffra.0fj.oi'  r^yeos  irfaa.  iro'.tjToto  (i.  333,  etc.).  But  this  phrase, 
'she  stood  by  the  door-post  of  the  hall,'  must  refer  to  one  of  the 
principal  entrances  to  the  hall.  It  is  manifestly  quite  inapplicable  to 
a  small  raised  postern  in  a  side-wall. 

Moreover,  the  hypothesis  of  an  6p(ro06p->j  at  Tiryns  leaves  a  whole 
series  of  difficulties  untouched.  The  following  are  some  of  them, — 
the  first  three  turning  on  passages  noticed  above. 

(1)  Odysseus,  being  at  the  lower  end  of  the  hall,  refuses  to  go  to 
the  women's  rooms  because  he  would  have  to  pass  up  the  hall  among 
the  suitors.     At  Tiryns  he  would  only  have  had  to  turn  his  back  upon 
the  suitors,  and  to  leave  the  hall. 

(2)  The  women,  coming  from  their  own  sleeping-rooms  at  night, 
issue  from  the  men's  hall,  and  pass  by  Odysseus  sleeping  in  the  pro- 


APPENDIX.  183 

domus.  At  Tiryns  they  would  have  gone  out  by  the  separate  approach 
to  their  own  court.  They  could  not  have  passed  through  the  men's 
hall,  or  its  prodomus. 

(3)  Eumaeus,  when  at  the  upper  end  of  the  hall,  is  in  the  right 
position  to  call  forth  Eurycleia  from  the  women's  apartments,  and  to 
charge  her  privily  to  close  them.    At  Tiryns,  even  with  the  hypothetical 
tpffodvprj,  this  could  not  have  so  happened. 

(4)  After  the  slaying  of  the  suitors,   Telemachus,  being  in  the 
men's  hall,  calls  forth  Eurycleia  by  striking  a  closed  door  (22.  394)- 
Now,  the  dpaoOvpn  was  at  this  time  open  (11.  333);  so,  also,  was  the 
door  at  the  lower  end  of  the  hall  (22.  399).     The  door,  leading  to  the 
women's  apartments,  which  Telemachus  struck,  must  therefore  be  a 
third  door,  distinct  from  both  of  these.     It  was  the  door  at  the  upper 
end   of  the  hall,  as  the  whole  evidence  of  the   Odyssey  shows.     In 
the  house  at  Tiryns  it  has  no  existence. 

(5)  In  the  house  at  Tiryns  the  armoury  (0d\a/tos  OTT\WI')  has  to  be 
identified  with  one  of  the  small  rooms  on  the  side  of  the  women's  hall 
furthest  from  the  men's  hall.     Such  a  position,  —  accessible  from   the 
men's  hall  only  by  long  and  intricate  routes,  —  is  wholly  irreconcileable 
with  that  easy  and  swift  access  to  the  armoury  which  is  required  by  the 
narrative  of  the  /j.irrj<jTripo(f>oi'ia  in  book  22  of  the  Odyssey  :  see  especially 
w.  106  —  U2. 

'  A  suggested  restoration  of  the  Great  Hall  in  the  Palace  of  Tiryns  ' 
has  been  published  by  Prof.  J.  H.  Middleton  in  the  Journ.  Hellen. 
Studies,  VII.  161.  Some  points  in  this  call  for  notice,  (i)  In  Od.  11. 
142,  —  where  the  suitors,  shut  into  the  hall,  are  being  shot  down  by 
Odysseus  from  the  threshold  at  its  lower  end,  —  the  goat-herd  Melanthius, 
an  ally  of  the  suitors,  contrives  to  escape  from  the  hall,  and  to  bring 
armour  for  them  from  the  armoury.  The  way  in  which  Melanthius 
left  the  hall  is  thus  described  :  —  'he  went  up  by  the  /Juryes  of  the  halt':  — 


,  ahroXos  aly£v, 
t'j  0a\d/j.ovt  'QSvffrjos  dvA  /iwyaj  fjieydpoio. 

\Vhat  the  /iuryes  were,  is  doubtful  :  to  me  it  seems  most  probable  that 
they  were  the  narrow  passages,  reached  from  the  hall  by  the  dproOtipi], 
by  which  one  could  pass  round,  outside  the  hall,  into  the  back  part  of 
the  house,  where  the  armoury  was.  This  was  the  view  of  Eustathius, 
and  it  has  recently  been  supported  by  Mr  J.  Protodikos,  in  his  essay 
De  Aedibus  Homericis  (Leipsic,  1877).  The  Modern  Greek  povya, 
'narrow  passage,'  is  probably  the  Homeric  pwl-,  pory6s,  —  w  having 
become  ov  as  in  the  Modern  <TKOV\IKI  from  <TK<L\i]£  ,  etc.  ;  and  the  old 
noun  of  the  3rd  decl.  having  given  the  stem  for  a  new  noun  of  the  ist, 
as  in  the  Modern  vtfyja  from  rtff,  etc.  Another  suggested  etymology 


184  HOMER. 

for  povya,  —  from  the  low  Latin  ruga  as  =  '  path  ',  whence  O.  It.  ruga 
and  Fr.  rue  (see  Brachet  s.  z>.),  —  fails  to  carry  povya  far  enough  back  ; 
and  the  way  in  which  the  pwyes  are  mentioned  (Od.  22.  143)  proves 
that  the  word  was  in  familiar  use.  Prof.  Constantinides  has  given  me 
an  illustration  of  the  modern  use  which  is  curiously  apposite.  It  is  in  a 
folk-song  from  the  country  near  Cyzicus.  A  monster  is  chasing  a 
princess  :  — 


Kal  fj.t$  rats  povyais  rats  ffrevais 
rod  TraXarioO  Tr/v  <pddi>ei  : 

'  he  hunts  her  to  the  streets,  he  pursues  her  into  the  court,  and  in  the 
narrow  passages  of  the  palace,  he  overtakes  her.' 

Prof.  Middleton  favours  a  different  view.  Dr  Db'rpfeld  had  sugges- 
ted that  over  the  four  pillars  of  the  hall  at  Tiryns  there  may  have  been 
a  lantern,  serving  for  the  escape  of  smoke  from  the  hearth,  as  well  as 
for  light.  [The  late  Mr  James  Fergusson,  who  had  suggested  such 
an  arrangement  in  the  case  of  the  Parthenon,  thought  it  improbable,  on 
account  of  the  dimensions,  at  Tiryns;  where  he  rather  believed  that 
the  hall  had  been  lighted  by  vertical  openings  in  the  upper  parts  of  the 
side-walls  :  Tiryns,  p.  218,  n.]  Prof.  Middleton  suggests  that  the  puyes 
may  have  been  windows  in  this  lantern.  He  supposes  that  Melanthius 
swarmed  up  one  of  the  pillars  in  the  hall,  escaped  by  the  windows  on  to 
the  roof,  and  thence  descended  by  a  stair  to  the  armoury.  But  he  has 
overlooked  some  points  in  the  Homeric  story  which  appear  conclusive 
against  this  theory.  The  first  exit  of  Melanthius  —  who  goes  twice  to 
the  armoury  —  is  not  observed  by  Odysseus,  or  by  any  one  of  his  three 
supporters.  This  is  an  absurdity,  if  Melanthius  had  performed  the  feat 
of  climbing  from  the  floor  to  the  roof  of  the  hall  up  one  of  the  central 
pillars,  in  full  view  of  his  alert  adversaries.  Further,  Melanthius  returns 
from  the  armoury  with  twelve  shields,  twelve  spears,  and  twelve 
helmets  (22.  144).  His  return  is  as  unnoticed  as  his  exit.  But  to 
climb  down  the  pillar,  with  the  load  just  described,  and  yet  entirely  to 
elude  the  observation  of  watchful  enemies,  would  be  a  feat  even  more 
remarkable  than  the  furtive  ascent.  If  the  pwyes  are  to  be  lantern- 
windows,  some  way,  other  than  a  pillar,  must  be  shown  by  which  they 
could  have  been  reached.  (2)  Prof.  Middleton  puts  the  'stone  threshold' 
at  the  lower  end  of  the  hall  (since  he  assumes  that  the  hall  had  no  door 
at  the  upper  end).  He  puts  the  threshold  of  ash  in  the  prodomus. 
But,  on  his  view,  the  6p<ro6vpr)  in  the  side-wall  was  the  'direct  communi- 
cation between  the  Megaron  of  the  men  and  the  women's  apartments  ' 
(p.  167).  Yet,  in  passing  from  the  women's  apartments  to  the  men's 
hall,  Penelope  crosses  the  stone  threshold  (Od.  23.  88). 

All  the  Homeric  evidence  tends  to  show  that  the  Homeric  house  is 


APPENDIX.  185 

the  prototype  of  the  later  Greek  house  of  the  historical  age.  A 
dwelling  on  the  supposed  Tirynthian  plan  differs  from  this  Greek  type 
in  a  vital  respect.  By  placing  the  women  in  a  practically  separate 
house,  with  a  separate  egress,  it  fails  to  provide  for  their  seclusion  in  the 
sense  which  ancient  Greek  feeling  required. 

The  space  which  has  here  been  given  to  this  subject  is  amply 
justified  by  its  importance  in  two  general  aspects.  First, — the  in- 
terpretation of  the  Odyssey  is  reduced  to  chaos,  if  these  fragmentary 
house-walls  at  Tiryns, — of  doubtful  age  and  origin, — are  accepted  as 
at  once  sufficing  to  upset  all  the  plainest  evidence  of  the  Homeric 
text.  Secondly, — this  case  is  typical  of  a  tendency  which,  in  the 
interests  alike  of  archaeology  and  of  scholarship,  is  to  be  deprecated. 
No  one  questions  the  intrinsic  interest  and  value  of  the  Tiryns 
remains,  whatever  may  be  their  date  or  source.  Nor  is  the  classical 
scholarship  of  the  present  day  at  all  disposed  to  neglect  the  invaluable 
light  derived  from  classical  archaeology.  But  when,  as  at  Tiryns,  it  is 
sought  to  bring  monuments  into  relation  with  texts,  then  the  difficulties 
which  those  texts  present  should  be  either  fairly  answered  or  frankly 
allowed. 


NOTE  2,  p.  136. 

DIFFERENCES    BETWEEN    HOMERIC   AND   LATER   CLASSICAL 
GREEK. 

The  following  synopsis  exhibits  the  principal  points  of  difference. 
On  the  subject  of  this  Note,  as  on  those  of  Notes  3  and  4,  students  may 
be  referred  for  further  illustrations  to  Mr  Monro's  Grammar  of  the 
Homeric  Dialect  (Clarendon  Press,  1882). 

I.     Forms  of  words. 

i.  The  number  of  strong  aorists  in  Homer  is  much  larger  than  in 
later  Greek.  (A  '  strong '  aorist  is  one  formed  directly  from  the  verbal 
stem,  as  t\af}oi>  from  Xo/3 :  a  '  weak '  aorist  is  one  formed  with  a  suffix : 
as  (\v-ffa.  So  in  English  '  took '  is  a  strong  tense  :  '  loos-ed '  is  a 
weak  tense.)  'Strong*  tenses  are  mostly  formed  in  the  vigorous 
youth  of  a  language  :  then  it  ceases  to  add  to  their  number,  or  even 
drops  some  of  them  out  of  use,  and  tends  to  multiply  '  weak '  tenses. 
Further,  certain  kinds  of  strong  aorist  occur  in  Homer  which  afterwards 
became  extinct :  viz.,  (i)  the  and  aor.  midd.  formed  from  the  stem 
without  a  connecting  (or  '  thematic ')  vowel  (like  the  o  in  Aa^-o-v,  the 
« in  #Xaj3-e-j),  as  dX-ro,  'leaped.'  (ii)  The  reduplicated  aor.  act.  and 
midd..  as  Stdaer,  \e\a0etr0at,  of  which  7770701'  is  the  only  Attic  example. 


1 86  HOMER. 

2.  In  post-Homeric  Greek  the  vowels  w  and  rj   regularly  mark 
the  subjunctive  in  all  tenses.     In  Homer  they  mark  it  (chiefly  in  the 
pres.  subjunct.)  only  -when  the  indicative  has  o  or  e.     Thus  Homer  has 
subj.  e~\w[jiev,  the  indie,  being  etKopev :  but  subj.  toper  ('let  us  go'),  the 
indie,  being  t/j.ev. 

3.  In  Homer,  the  perfect-stem  (formed  by  reduplicating  the  verbal 
stem)  varies  from  long  to  short  in  different  parts  of  the  same  perfect 
(or  pluperf.)  tense:  as  dpr/pet,  ap-ripuis,  but  apSpvta:  re0??\et,  but  Te0a\via. 
Here,  as  in  the  subjunct.  with  short  vowel,  Homer  agrees  with  Vedic 
Sanscrit.     In  Attic  this  variation  is  a  rare  exception,  as  in  oZ5-a,  fo-fj-ev. 

II.     Syntax. 

1.  In  Homer  the  Definite  Article  6,  17,  r6  most  often  occurs  in  the 
substantival  use,  i.e.,  as  an  independent  pronoun.     Attic  (except  in  a 
few  special  usages,  such  as  6  (Jiev...b  5e)  has  the  attributive  use,  i.e., 
the  art.  is  joined  to  a  noun. 

2.  Besides  the  particle  aa>,  Homer  has  also  Kev,  of  which  the  mean- 
ing is  almost  identical,  the  main  differences  being  these:  (a)  Kev  is 
commoner  than  av,  the  ratio  in  the  Iliad  being  about   four  to  one. 
(b)  dv  is  preferred  in  negative  clauses.    (<:)  dv  is  rarely  used  with  the  rela- 
tive (8s,  STTI,  etc.),  though  often  with  temporal  or  final  conjunctions 
(Sre,  6<f>pa,  etc.).     (d)  while  Kev  is  frequent  in  two  or  more  clauses  of  one 
sentence  (as  //.  I.  324),  dv  is  esp.  used  in  the  second  clause  (//.  19.  228). 
Briefly,  dv  is  preferred  to  Kev  where  the  sense  is  emphatic,  or  adversative. 

3.  The  future  indicative  is  used  with  dv  or  Kev. 

4.  The  subjunctive  is  used  with  dv  or  Kev  in  simple  sentences  (//. 
3.  54  OVK  av  TOI  xpalwa,  'shall  not  avail  thee'). 

5.  The  subjunctive  is  used  after  el,  not  only  with  dv  or  Kev,  but  also 
without  it. 

6.  The  subjunctive  =  an  emphatic  future  in  negative  clauses  (//.  I. 
262,  otiSe  tdwfj.at,  nor  shall  I  see) :  and  also  in  the  phrase  xai  TTOTS  TIS 
elir-gai  (shall  say),  //.  6.  459  etc. 

7.  The  optative  in  a  simple  sentence,  without  av  or  Kev,  can  express 
possibility,  usu.  in  a  negative  sentence  (//.  19.  321),  but  sometimes  in  an 
affirmative  (Od.  3.  231). 

8.  Homer  uses  prepositions  with  the  freedom  of  adverbs:  separating 
them  (a)  from  the  verb  which  they  qualify  ('tmesis'),  or  (b)  from  the 
case  which  they  govern.     In  later  Greek  this  usage  has  much  narrower 
limits.    This  is  another  point  of  resemblance  between  Homeric  language 
and  Sanscrit,  in  which  prepositions  never  reached  the  stage  of  govern- 
ing nouns. 


APPENDIX.  187 

NOTE  3,  p.  139. 

DIFFERENCES    BETWEEN    THE    LANGUAGE   OF    THE   ILIAD 
AND    OF   THE    ODYSSEY. 

I.     Prepositions. 

The  following  uses  are  found  in  the  Odyssey,  while  they  are  either 
absent  from  the  Iliad,  or  occur  only  in  certain  later  parts  of  it. 

(r)  &p<f>t=:1  about',  with  dat.,  after  a  verb  of  speaking  or  thinking: 
4.  151  dfj.<p"05v<rrji,  |  (jLv6(6(j.ijv. 

(i)     irepl  with  gen.,  similarly  :  I.  135  irepl  ira.Tpbs  tpoiro. 

(3)  /nerd  with  gen.  — 'among'  or  'with'  :  10.  320  per  d\\uv  X^£o 
traipwv.     (So  twice  in  later  parts  of  Iliad,  21.  458,  the  6eui>  fj.dxr},  and 
24.  400.) 

(4)  iifi  as  =  'extending  over' :  I.   299  travTas  tir   avQpuirovs.     (So 
in  //.  9,  10,  24.) 

(5)  irpbs  with  dat.  =  ' besides' :  10.  68  irpbs  TOI<TI. 

(6)  &va.  with  gen.  :  2.  416  ava  PIJOJ  |  fiaivu. 

(7)  Kard  with  ace.  'on'  (business,  etc.):  3.  72  Kara  Trprj^tv. 

(8)  fvi=  'among',  with  persons  or  abstract  words:  2.  194  iv  ira<n. 
This  occurs  in  //.,  but  almost  exclusively  in  9,  10,  23,  24. 

(9)  ^/c  =  'in  consequence  of  :  3.  135  ^wos  ^|  <5\o??s.     (So  in  //.  9. 
566.) 

II.     Article. 

The  substantival  use  of  the  art.  is  more  frequent  in  Homer  than 
the  attributive  (see  Note  2).  But  certain  special  forms  of  the  attributive 
use  are  clearly  more  frequent  in  //.  than  in  Od.,  or  vice  versa.  Thus  : 

(i)  The  contrasting  use  is  more  frequent  in  //.,  as  2.  217  <f>o\Kbs  tr)i>, 
X^Xos  5'  l-rtpov  iroda,  TW  5^  ol  U/JLU,  'but  then  his  shoulders' — where  ru 
contrasts  them  with  the  other  members. 

(ii)  The  defining  use,  often  with  a  hostile  or  scornful  tone  (cp.  iste), 
is  more  frequent  in  Od.  :  as  12.  113  rtjv  6\or)v...Xdpvp8iv,  ' that  dire 
Charybdis':  18.  H+TOUTQV  rbv  avaXrov,  'this  man — insatiate  that  he 
is.' 

III.     Pronouns. 

(1)  The  strictly  reflexive  use  of  to  is  more  frequent  in  //.  than  in 
Od.,  in  a  ratio  of  more  than  2  :  i. 

(2)  r6  as  a  relative  pron.,  in  the  adverbial  sense  '  wherefore",  often 
occurs  in  //.  (as  3.  176),  but  only  once  in  Od.  (8.  332). 

(3)  3j  is  sometimes  demonstrative  in  //. :  never  in  Od. :  unless  in 
4.  388,  a  doubtful  example. 


1 88  HOMER. 

IV.     Conjunctions,  particles,  adverbs,  etc. 

(1)  OTI=  'that'  is  commoner  in  //.  than  in  Od.,  which  prefers  wj  or 
ouVe»ca. 

(2)  oiive KO.  a.s='  that '  occurs  several  times  after  verbs  of  ' saying', 
ptc.,  in  Od.,  but  only  once  in  //.  (n.  21). 

(3)  The  combination  pkv   oOr,  marking  a  transition,  is  character- 
istic of  the  Odyssey  (with  //.  9.  550). 

(4)  oiiStv  in  //.  is  usu.  adv.,   'not  at  all',  or  subst.,  'nothing': 
in  Od.  it  is  also  an  adj.  (ovStv  giros,  4.  350  etc.),  and  so  once  in  //.  10. 
216.     (//.  24.  370  is  not  a  clear  instance.) 

V.     Dependent  clauses. 

(i)  Final  relative  clauses  as  Od.  10.  538  /zai/ris  Aev<reTat...oj  K£V 
rot  efrrflo-i.  Such  clauses  are  decidedly  more  frequent  in  Od.  than  in  //. 
Of  24  examples  brought  by  Delbruck  (Synt.  Forsch.  I.  130-2),  17  are 
from  the  Odyssey. 

(i)  Object  clauses  with  el  after  verbs  of  telling,  knowing,  seeing, 
thinking  etc. :  as  Od.  12.  112  tvlvwes  \  ftirus,..vTreKirpo<pvyoi/M.  This  is 
frequent  in  Od.,  but  extremely  rare  in  //. 


NOTE  4,  p.   140. 

HOMERIC   WORDS    WHICH    SHOW    TRACES    OF   THE    DIGAMMA. 

(i)  The  following  words,  as  used  in  Homeric  verse,  show  traces  of 
a  lost  initial  /.  The  effect  of  /  appears  either  in  warranting  hiatus  or 
in  making  position  (see  p.  141).  In  almost  all  these  words,  however, 
the  Homeric  observance  of  /  is  more  or  less  inconstant.  As  regards 
most  of  them,  the  /"  is  attested,  independently  of  metre,  by  the  corre- 
sponding forms  in  other  languages.  But  it  will  be  seen  that  an 
asterisk  is  prefixed  to  a  few  words  in  the  list.  This  means  that,  in 
their  case,  such  confirmatory  evidence  is  either  wanting  or  doubtful,  and 
that  metre  affords  the  principal  (or  the  only)  ground  for  supposing  that 
they  once  began  with  /. 

dyvvfu,  to  break. — ctXts  (rt.  fe\,  to  press},  enough. — aval-,  lord,  avacrcra, 
dvdfffffiv. — *apaibs,  thin. — apva,  apves,  etc.,  lamb.  [In  Od.  9.  444,  how- 
ever, dpveios,  a  young  ram,  has  no  /I] — atrrv,  town.  Sanscr.  vdstu. — &*/>, 
spring.  Lat.  ver. — eticoffi,  twenty.  Lat.  -viginti. — eifXw  (/e\),  to  press, 
ZXffai,  oXeiy,  ^eX/u^os:  with  the  cognate  dXuivai  (cp.  ^-aXwi'). — el\tiw 
(/eX,  perh.  distinct  from  the  last),  to  wrap  rottnd;  e/Xi>0<£fw,  to  roll ; 
with  the  cognate  4\l<r<r<a,  to  wind;  2Xt£,  spiral. — etpyu  (fepy),  to  keep 
off.  elpus  (fep),  to  say,  fut.  tptw.  Cp.  Lat.  ver-bum,  Eng.  word. — 
iWv/u  (/e$),  to  clothe;  eZ/*o,  taQfo.  Lat.  ves-tis. — frros  (fen),  word;  diretv; 


APPENDIX.  189 

6$,  voice.  Cp.  Lat.  vox. — fpyov,  work;  tpdw.  Cp.  Eng.  work. — fytfw, 
to  draw,  Ippu,  to  go  away.  Cp.  air6-ep<re,  tore  away,  and  Lat.  verro. — 
?crirepoj,  evening.  Lat.  vesper. — (ros,  year.  Cp.  Lat.  vetus. — *rjvo\f/, 
gleaming. — rjpa  in  ftrl  ijpa  <ptpcii>,  to  gratify.  Cp.  Sanscrit  rt.  z>ar,  'to 
choose';  Zend  vdra,  'wish',  'gift':  Curtius  Etym.  §  659. — *f)plov,  a 
barrow.  II.  23.  126. — la.x<u,  to  cry  aloud,  taxj,  %xA-  (For  a-via-X0**  see 
Note  on  Homeric  Versification,  §  vill.) — ISfiv,  olda,  «Wos.  Lat.  video, 
Eng.  a«V. — **I\toy.  50  instances  make  for  fl\ios,  and  14  against  it. — 
tov,  violet,  toets,  Io5ve<f>&.  Lat.  viola. — **Iptj  and  Ipos  (connected  with 
efpw?). — fj,  sinew,  strength,  Ivet,  l<f>i,  t<f>ta.  Lat.  z/w. — T<ros,  equal. — 
frvs,  yW/0*  of  a  wheel. — Irfi),  willow.  Cp.  Lat.  vimen,  vitis:  Eng.  withe. 
— ofaoj,  house.  Lat.  vicus:  Eng.  -zwV£  in  Berwick,  etc. — olvos,  o«»<f. 
Lat.  v  iiium.  Eng.  wm^. — oJXa^ij,  /r«j  of  battle  (/VX). 

Words  which  once  began  with  /"sometimes  have  e  prefixed  to  them 
in  Homer:  as  i-t\8up,  wish  (/e\5):  t-fiKoai.:  e-^/ryet :  ^-^.  And  the 
syllabic  augment  or  reduplication  can  be  prefixed  as  if  /"remained :  i-ayij, 
t-t\irfTO,  H-OIKO.,  ^-eX/A^os,  etc. 

(2)  The  following  words  originally   began   with   <r/".     The  rough 
breathing  represents   the   original   <r.     If,  as  is   probable,  the  a  had 
already  been  lost  in  Ionic  at  a  time  when  the  sound  f  was  still  used, 
the  initial  sound  of  such  words  would  then  have  been ' '  f,  like  Eng.  wh. 
For  example,  there  would  have  been  a  period  when  the  word  originally 
pronounced  swandano,   and   afterwards   handano,    would   have    been 
whandano  (favSdvw). 

avSavu  (fffa.5),  to  please,  Homeric  aor.  ttiaSov  (=(fadoi>),  perf.  part. 
iadus :  yd  fa.  Lat.  suavis. — tSva,  a  wooer's  gifts,  is  prob.  from  the  same 
rt. — iKvpb*  (ffffKvp),  father-in-law.  Lat.  safer  (where  j0=orig.  sva,  as 
in  somnus,  =Sanscr.  svdpnas):  cp.  Germ.  Schwiegervater. — lo,  eii,  ov, 
ol,  t,  pron.  3rd  pers.  sing.,  with  possessive  ios,  oj.  Sanscr.  rt.  sva:  Lat. 
sui,  suus.  This  pron.  is  the  only  Homeric  word  in  which  /  lengthens 
a  preceding  short  syllable  which  has  not  ictus:  as  //.  9.  377  ipptru'  \ 
(K  yip  |  eii  0pA»as  et\ero  K.T.\.  ?J,  six.  (Primitive  form,  svaks:  Curt. 

§  584-) 

The  aspirate  has  been  lost  in  i?0ea,  from  rt.  afeff.  Cp.  Sanscr.  svadhd, 
'one's  own  doing':  from  sva  comes  also  Lat.  sue-sco. — tOw  and  duOa. 
have  no  /"in  Horn. — (Ovea,  which  also  takes  /",  is  perh.  akin  to  (ffot, 
•qffos, — A  similar  instance  is  prob.  fnyj,  companion  (ffft-rw,  '  one's  own 
man '). 

(3)  Initial  Sfi. — defeat,  to  fear,  5^os,  fctpos,  dtiXot  show  the  original 
8/1  by  often  lengthening  a  short  vowel  before  them.     So  also  Sr/v ,  for 
a  long  while,  Sijpov,  8i}da.     Curtius,  with  Benfey  and  Leo  Meyer,  regards 
Sfif,  Sfav  as  shortened  from  SI/OP,  accusative  from  stem  Sifa  '  day '. 

(4)  Initial  fp. — While  initial  p  can  represent  an  original  <rp  (as  in 
ftiui),  there  are  other  instances  in  which   t  represents  an  original  Fp. 


I QO  HOMER. 

Such  are  /tefw,  to  do,  piyeu,  to  shiver,  peia,  pea,  easily;  before  which  a 
short  vowel  is  sometimes,  but  not  always,  lengthened:  pTfiyw^t,  to 
break,  plirru,  to  throw,  pdKos,  a  rag;  before  which  a  short  vowel 
is  always  lengthened  :  ptvos,  a  hide,  plfa,  a  root ;  before  which  it 
is  usually  lengthened. 

(5)  Medial  /. — The  loss  of  /  from  the  middle  of  a  word  is  some- 
times shown  (a)  by  contraction,  as  fipvya,  I  drew,  =  tfepvaa. :  AvKotipyov 
=  A.vKo6pyov :  (b)  by  synizesis,  as  TroX^aj  (a  disyllabic)  from  tro\efa.s. — 
A  lost  /  after  a  prep,  in  composition  usually  warrants  hiatus,  as  8ta- 
eure'fji.ev :  but  there  are  exceptions,  as  direi.ireij.ev  (Od.  i.  91). 

(6)  Total  disappearance  of  f.     In  some   words,   which   certainly 
once  had  initial  f,  Homeric  metre  shows  no  trace  of  the  fact.     These 
words  begin  with  o,  ov,  or  w. 

opdw,  to  see;  ovpos,  ovpevs,  watcher;  6peffOai,  to  watch.  Cp.  Lat. 
vereor:  Germ,  warten,  wahren.  — 6pos,  mountain.  Cp.  Boptas.  Lat. 
verr-uca,  'a  wart',  has  been  compared. — 'Opruytri,  fromftprvg,  'a  quail', 
Sanscr.  vartakas. — GXOI,  oyea,  chariot  (cp.  Lat.  veho) ;  6x\l£u,  to  heave 
up  (cp.  Lat.  vectis) ;  6-x.Oeu,  to  be  vexed  (cp.  Lat.  vehemens,  vexo). — 6fj.tf>^, 
voice  (feir,  vox). — ov\at,  bar  ley -groats,  ovXoxvrai,  (/eX). — ovpavos,  sky 
(Sanscr.  vdrunas,  rt.  var,  'to  cover'). — ovrdu,  to  wound;  tarecXij  (cp. 
a-ovTos  =  dfovTos). — u>deu>,  to  push  (Sanscr.  rt.  vadh,  to  strike:  cp.  ?-w<rct 
=  £/Wa). — iai>os, price  (Sanscr.  vasnds,  Lat.  ven-um,  ven-eo,  ven-do). 

NOTE  5. 
HOMERIC  VERSIFICATION. 

The  best  treatment  of  the  subject,  for  English  students,  will  be 
found  in  Prof.  Seymour's  Homeric  Language  and  Verse  (Boston, 
U.  S.  A.,  Ginn  and  Co.,  1885).  The  scope  of  this  Note  is  limited  to 
giving  a  short  view  of  the  most  essential  matters,  in  a  form  convenient 
for  reference. 

I.     Dactyls  and  spondees. 

In  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey  dactyls  are  about  thrice  as  frequent  as 
spondees.  This  is  one  of  the  causes  to  which  the  Homeric  hexameter 
owes  its  rapidity,  as  the  Virgilian  hexameter  often  owes  its  peculiar 
majesty  to  the  larger  spondaic  element — a  condition  which  the  Latin 
language  imposed,  and  which  Virgil  treated  with  such  consummate 
skill.  Verses  in  which  every  foot  except  the  sixth  is  a  dactyl  (TOV 
5'  dira.fj.eil36tJi.evos  irpoffe<t>T)  Trodas  WKVS  'Ax'XXefo)  are  far  more  frequent  in 
Homer  than  in  Virgil.  On  the  other  hand,  verses  in  which  every  foot 
except  the  fifth  is  a  spondee  ( Ut  belli  signum  Laurenli  Turnus  ab  arce) 
are  much  commoner  in  Virgil  than  in  Homer. 


APPENDIX.  Ipl 


Verses  are  technically  called  'spondaic'  (<nrov5tia.$ovTe* 
cffovdeiaica  tiri))  when  the  fifth  foot  is  a  spondee,  whether  the  first  four 
feet  are  purely  spondaic,  or  not.  About  4  verses  in  every  100  of 
the  Iliad  are,  in  this  limited  sense,  'spondaic,'  —  a  larger  proportion 
than  is  found  in  Latin  poetry.  One  or  two  apparent  instances,  however, 
break  the  rule  that  the  hexameter  must  not  end  with  two  words,  each 
of  which  is  a  spondee  :  thus  in  Od.  9.  306,  ijw  Slav,  we  should  write 
7J<Ja;  and  in  Od.  14.  239,  dy/jiov  (jrfj/j.is,  dij(j.oo.  Verses  in  which  every 
foot  is  a  spondee  are  extremely  rare  :  our  texts  have  only  three  in  each 
epic  (//.  i.  544,  ii.  130,  23.  221:  Od.  15.  334,  21.  15,  22.  175, 
repeated  192)  ;  and  most,  if  not  all,  of  these  would  admit  a  dactyl  by 
the  restoration  of  uncontracted  forms.  In  Latin,  where  the  temptation 
was  stronger,  there  was  a  similar  reluctance  to  imitate  Ennius  in  his 
olli  respondd  rex  Albai  longai. 

II.     Caesura. 

'Caesura'  is  the  'cutting'  (ro/xij)  of  a  metrical  foot  by  the  break 
between  two  words;  as  in  fj.ijviv  \  aeiSe  the  dactyl  is  cut.  Such  a  break 
between  words  necessarily  causes  a  slight  pause  of  the  voice;  which 
may,  or  may  not,  coincide  with  a  pause  in  the  sense.  Hence  the 
phrase,  'caesural  pause";  and  the  caesura  itself  is  sometimes  called 
simply  a  'pause'. 

In  every  metrical  foot  there  is  one  syllable  on  which  the  chief  strength 
of  tone,  or  if  (us,  falls.  This  is  called  the  'ictus-syllable'.  It  is  the 
first  syllable  in  a  dactyl  (-  ~  ~),  and  in  a  spondee  (-  -).  It  is  also  called 
the  arsis  ('raising',  as  if  the  voice  were  raised  on  it);  while  the  rest 
of  the  foot  is  called  the  thesis  ('lowering').  This  is  the  current  use  of 
the  terms,  derived  from  Roman  writers.  But  the  correct  use  —  the  old 
Greek  one  —  is  exactly  opposite  :  in  it,  Bitra  meant  'putting  down  the 
foot',  —  hence  the  syllable  marked  by  the  beat  or  ictus:  apaty  meant  the 
'lifting  of  the  foot',  —  hence  the  syllable,  or  syllables,  not  so  marked. 

When  caesura  follows  the  ictus-syllable,  it  is  called  masculine, 
because  it  gives  a  vigorous  effect.  When  it  comes  between  two 
syllables,  neither  of  which  has  ictus  (such  as  the  second  and  third 
syllables  of  a  dactyl),  it  is  feminine. 

The  Homeric  hexameter  almost  always  has  one  or  other  of  these 
two  caesuras  in  the  third  foot  :  thus:  — 

(1)  Masculine  caesura.     //.  i.  I  fj.rjviv  aeide,  0e  \  d,  A  HT;  |  \rjiddeu 
'AxiXi/oj.     This   is  also  called  Tony  irevOrifunfp^,  'penthemimeral',  as 
following  the  fifth  half-foot  of  the  verse. 

(2)  Feminine  caesura.     Od.  i  .  r  Svdpa  fwt  fweire,  \  MoO<ro,  A  vo\  \ 
vrpovov,  os  /«iXa  iroXXd.     This  is  described  by  Greek  writers   as   the 
TOW  tari  Tplrov  Tpoxouov.    It  is  decidedly  commoner  in  Homer  than 
the  masculine  caesura  of  the  third  foot.    The  preference  for  it  is  shown 


192  HOMER. 

by  the  number  of  constant  formulas,  or  '  tags,'  which  are  adapted  to  it, 
such  as  irarrip  dvdpwf  re  6f<2v  re,  6ea  yXavKuiris  'A.6rivri,  etc.  Those 
adapted  to  the  masculine  caesura,  such  as  riyTJropfs  -ijdt  /j-edovres,  are 
fewer. 

The  principal  pause  of  the  verse  must  never  come  at  the  end  of  the 
third  foot.  Thus  such  a  verse  as  this  is  impossible  :  —  Ai/roOs  Kal  Aids 
l-Kyovos'  |  ws  /3acrt\^t  %o\w0ds.  This  would  cut  the  hexameter  into  two 
equal  parts,  and  so  destroy  the  rhythm.  But,  when  the  principal 
pause  is  not  at  the  end  of  the  third  foot,  a  caesura  in  that  foot  is 
sometimes,  though  very  rarely,  dispensed  with.  (The  number  of  verses 
with  no  caesura  of  the  third  foot  is  given  by  Seymour  as  185  in  the 
Iliad,  and  71  in  the  Odyssey:  p.  83,  §  40  c.)  It  is  less  uncommon  for 
the  third  foot  to  end  with  a  word  when  the  caesura  saves  the 
rhythm:  as  //.  3.  185  IvQa.  tSov  TrXeio-rovs  &ptiyas  \  avepas. 

The  masculine  caesura  of  the  fourth  foot  is  somewhat  more  frequent 
in  the  Iliad  than  in  the  Odyssey,  and  often  follows  the  feminine  caesura 
of  the  third  foot,  as  //.  i.  5  oluvdicrl  re  ira<ri'  Aids  5'  A  treXelero  /JovX??. 
This  is  the  TO/HTJ  ^<f>6rifj.itj.ep^s,  as  following  the  seventh  half-foot  of  the 
verse. 

The  feminine  caesura  of  the  fourth  foot  is  avoided.  Thus  such  a 
verse  as  the  following  is  very  rare,  —  //.  23.  760  dyx*  M<£X",  u>s  Sre  rls  re 
ywaiKOs  A  tv&voio.  In  //.  9.  394,  where  the  MSS.  have  Ili/Xei/j  dyjv  jtot 
£ir«Ta  yvvcuKa  A  ya^fffferai  aura's,  Aristarchus  amended  yantcrffcrai  into 
ye  fjiafffferai,  which  avoids  this  ro/«7  /card  rtraprov  rpox<uov,  since  the 
enclitic  ye  is  considered  as  closely  adhering  to  yvvauica.. 

III.     The  bucolic  diaeresis. 

As  a  metrical  term,  8ialpe<ris  means  that  the  end  of  a  foot  coincides 
with  the  end  of  a  word.  When  the  end  of  the  fourth  foot  coincides  with 
the  end  of  a  word,  that  is  the  dtalpeffit  (or  SiiroSla)  (JovKoXiicri,  as  being 
a  favourite  rhythm  with  the  bucolic,  or  pastoral,  poets,  such  as  Theo- 
critus and  Moschus.  Thus  in  the  Lament  for  Bion  Moschus  has  this 
diaeresis  in  102  out  of  128  verses.  Many  Homeric  formulas  (chiefly 
designations  of  persons)  are  adapted  to  the  bucolic  diaeresis,  —  as  4>ot/3os 
'A?r6\\wi',  dla  Geauv,  l<?66fos  <f>us,  etc.  The  fourth  foot  is  in  this  case 
much  oftener  a  dactyl  than  a  spondee. 

IV.     Hiatus. 

Hiatus  s  the  non-elision  of  a  vowel  or  diphthong  at  the  end  of  a 
word,  when  the  next  word  begins  with  a  vowel  or  diphthong.  It  is 
allowed  in  Homeric  verse  under  the  following  conditions. 

i.     After  the  vowel  t,  or  v:  II.  5.  50  (yxet  6£v6evm  6.  123  rls  8£ 


2.     When  a  caesura  comes  between  the  words  :   II.  i.  569  KO.I  &' 


APPENDIX.  193 

aKtovffa  K0.8  |  ijoro  A  I  \  •nyi'dpif/acra  <f>i\ov  idjp.  The  feminine  caesura 
of  the  third  foot,  as  in  this  verse,  is  that  which  most  frequently  excuses 
hiatus. 

3.  After  the  first  foot:  //.  I.  333  a6rdp  o  tyvu.     This  is  rarer  than 
the  next  case. 

4.  Before  the  bucolic  diaeresis:  //.  5.  484  olov  K ty  ^potev'Axatol  | 

7}   KfV  OyOlfV. 

5.  When  the  vowel  at  the  end  of  the  first  word  is  long,  and  belongs 
to  the  ictus-syllable  of  a  foot:  //.  i.  418  fir\eo'  rf  <re  KO.K  1 77  a.t<r\-Q 
T^KOV  iv  /ieydpoiffiv. 

6.  When  a  long  vowel,  or  diphthong,  is  made  short  before   the 
following  vowel  or  diphthong:   //.   i.  29  TTJP  5'  iyu  ov  \v<rta:  ib.   28 
/AT}  vv  TOI  ov  xpoiV/tfl.     In  //.  2.  87,  tOvea.  elffi  could  be  brought  under 
this  head,  if  Hartel's  doubtful  view  were  accepted,  that   the    final   a 
of  the  Greek  neuter  plural   was  originally  long. — Hiatus  under  this 
condition  is  sometimes  called  'weak'  (or  'improper')  hiatus. 

V.      Lengthening  of  a  short  syllable. 

A  syllable   which,    according  to  ordinary   rules,  should  be  short 
is  often  lengthened  in  Homeric  verse. 

1.  This  is  sometimes  due  to  the  influence  of  a  lost  consonant, 
viz.: — 

(a)  The  digamma,  f :   //.  n.  793    irdpetmhv    (irapfeur&v).     II.   i. 
70  8s  flfli?  (fySi)).     In  //.  24.  154  os  o£ei,  eifws  Ktv  ayuv  'A^X^t'  ireXa<r<r];, 
the  pronoun  fe  may  have  fallen  out  after  3s.     The  occurrence  of  tirel  as 
the  first  word  of  the  hexameter  (//.  22.  379,  etc.)  is  perhaps  traceable  to 
an  original  tirfel  (^iri  +  pron.  stem  sva).     In  //.  19.  35  the  o  in  a.iroei.ir&v 
is  perhaps  due  to  a  vocalisation  of  f  (diroveiir&t') :  see  under  VIII. 

(b)  The  spirant  jod  (J  sounded  like  our  y)i  11.  3.  230  Kp-frrfffffi 
6e5s  ws  (yus). 

(c)  Initial  a:  II.  \.  51  /3Aos  fxeTevK^  tytifl  (quasi  ffexfffVKh,  the 
stem  of  (x<i)  being  <rex).     So  OJ.  9.  74  <rvvfx^  a'e^  (quasi  ffvatrexts). 

(d)  <rf,  in  the  pronoun  of  the  3rd  person:  //.  20.  261  Il-rjXeldijs  de 
ffaxot  ptv  oird  to  Xelpl  '"'o-X^V  (quasi  fffto):  17.    196  6  6'   dpd  (?  ircudl 
6irafffffv  (quasi  <r/tjJ). 

2.  The  metrical  ictus  is  the  most  frequent  cause  for  the  Homeric 
lengthening  of  a  short  syllable.     But  this  general  cause  is  often  aided 
by  some  further  special  cause.     The  instances  in  which  ictus  can  be 
pleaded  may  therefore  be  distinguished  into  groups. 

(i)  Thus  there  are  instances  in  which — unless  ictus  is  assumed  as 
the  sole  cause  of  the  lengthening — the  letter  <f>  seems  to  be  treated  as 
a  double  consonant :  //.  1 2.  208  al&\ov  t>(j>i.v.  If  the  first  syllable  of 
6<piv  were  really  short  here,  the  hexameter  would  be  of  the  kind  which 
Greek  metrists  called  utiovpos, — of  which  specimens  have  been  left  in 
J-  13 


194  HOMER. 

Greek  by  Lucian  (in  the  Tpayvdoirodaypa),  and  in  Latin  by  Terentianus 
Maurus.  (Cp.  Hermann,  Epitome  Doctr.  Metr.;  4th  ed.,  1869,  p.  in.) 
But,  as  the  ancients  saw,  5<pii>  was  here  pronounced  like  Sirpiv. 
[Seymour,  p.  93,  §  41  n.,  remarks:  '6ir<t>ts  is  now  written  for  5<pis  in 
Hipponax  Frg.  49,  and  is  justified  etymologically ;  cf.  SaTn^w  from  the 
stem  of  <7o06s,  "lax^os  from  la.x<a,  6K\ov  (6x.ov)  Find.  01.  VI.  24,  (pa.i.6- 
Xirwves  Aesch.  Choeph.  1047.'] — Cp.  Od.  7.  119  Ze^i/ph?  irveLovva. — 
In  //.  10.  502  ictus  helps  to  account  for  irl<pa^o-Kwi>:  but  not  so,  ib.  478, 
for  irl<pavo-K€.  It  is  possible,  indeed,  that  the  t  of  the  reduplication  was 
originally  long. 

(ii)  The  influence  of  ictus  is  sometimes  reinforced  by  the  natural 
tendency  of  speech  to  avoid  an  uncomfortably  long  series  of  short 
syllables.  This  conjunction  of  causes  may  probably  be  recognised 
in  Od.  12.  423  etrirovos  f34/3\r)To,  as  also  in  ayopdaffffe  airoveovro, 
addvaros,  ffvyarepa  (though  Ovydrrip),  ILpla/jLidys  (though  HpTa.fi.os). 

(iii)  A  pause  in  the  sense  can  help  ictus  to  lengthen  a  short 
syllable:  //.  i.  19  eKirep.\^a.i,  Ilptd/xoio  iroKlv,  ev  8'  otxad'  iK^crffai.  Od. 
10.  269  (petiy<i)p.ev '  In  ydp  xei>  dXtit-aifLfv  KO.KOV  ??/xa/3 :  i.  326  e'iar 
dKotiovres'  6  d'  ^A.-)(a.iSiv  vbffrov  deidei>. 

(iv)  A  short  vowel  is  sometimes  lengthened  before  X,  /*,  v,  p,  or 
ff.  In  such  cases,  the  influence  of  ictus  usually  helps,  as  //.  3.  222 
iTred  VKpddeffffiv :  23.  198  OXi?  re  eetiaiTo:  Od.  14.  434  diefj.oipa.To:  22.  46 
S<rd  pegeffKov :  but  not  always ;  thus  in  //.  22.  91  iroAXci  Xicrcrojuevw,  the 
a  has  no  ictus. 

(v)  A  short  vowel  is  lengthened  before  5  in  Stos,  Seiffai,  etc.,  of 
which  the  stem  was  originally  dpi;  and  before  Sty.  In  these  cases 
ictus  is  always  a  helping  cause.  //.  i.  33  i-Seiaev  S'  6  ytpwv.  The 
formula  /udXct  Sty  occurs  only  at  the  end  of  a  verse;  so,  too,  Irt  8rji>, 
except  in  Od.  i.  36,  and  6.  33. 

3.  The  vowel  i. — In  certain  abstract  nouns,  the  Homeric  long  t  is 
still  unexplained,  and  ictus,  at  least,  has  nothing  to  do  with  it:  //.  i. 
205  virepoir\iri<ri:  i.  588  irpoOvfd-gffi.:    Od.  13.    142  aTt/xtptrt. — In  //.   6. 
8 1  irdvr-g  e7rotx6/xej'ot  irplv  avr   £v  xePffl  ywaiKWf,  the  i  of  irpLv  merely 
keeps  its  original  length,  the  word  being  a  contracted  comparative. — 
Final  t  in  the  Homeric  dat.  of  the  3rd  declension  is  sometimes  short ; 
sometimes  (as  regularly  in  Latin)  it  is  long,  as  //.  7.  142  Kpdret  ye. 
The  t  of  such  an  Ionic  dat.  as  /u??rt  (//.  33.  318)  is  separately  justified 
by  the  contraction  from  /J,^TI-I. 

4.  Vocatival  e  is  sometimes  lengthened,  partly  through  ictus,  but 
partly  also  because  the  voice  naturally  dwells  a  little  on  it :  //.  4.  338 
<o  vie  Heretao. 

5.  Lastly,  there  are  a  few  instances  in  which  a  short  syllable  at  the 
beginning  of  a  verse  cannot  be  explained  on  any  of  the  special  grounds 
noticed  above.     If  ictus  is  not  the  sole  cause,  it  is  uncertain  what  other 
cause  has  helped. — //.  3.  357  oia  fiev  dcrTrtSos  ij\0e  (paeivTJs  6^pip.ov 


APPENDIX.  195 

(Seymour  suggests  the  influence  of  false  analogy,  through  5?'  'A<ppo5ir-r>, 
etc.] — //.  4.  155  (etc.)  <f>l\e  Kaffiyrtire.  The  t  of  <pi\ai  (aor.  imperat. 
midd.,  //.  5.  117),  and  t<t>l\aro  (ib.  61),  maybe  compared,  but  have 
analogies  which  make  them  less  remarkable.  [Leaf  on  //.,  /.  c.,  notes 
that,  if  0iXoi  is  for  (<r)<^-iXos,  from  stem  afe,  suus,  the  contraction  would 
justify  the  lengthening.] — //.  9.  5  Boptrjs  ical  Z6£upos  (so  again,  but  in 
dative,  II.  23.  193).  It  is  simplest  to  regard  Bop  as  lengthened  by  ictus, 
and  €771  as  one  syllable  by  synizesis.  (Curtius  supposed  a  pronunciation 
Bop/T/s.) 

VI.     Shortening  of  a  long  syllable. 

i.  In  Homeric,  as  in  Attic,  verse,  a  diphthong  can  be  shortened 
before  a  vowel  following  it  in  the  same  word :  //.  i.  489  Sioyev^  n^Xijoj 
v!6s.  Od.  7.  312  TOIOS  tuv  olos  t<r<ri.  20.  379  ffj.wa.lov. 

i.  There  are  a  few  instances  in  which  a  vowel  remains  short  before 
the  double  consonants  f,  <r/c :  //.  2.  634  ot  re  7>6.Kvvdov  Hx0"'-  i°-  824 
ot  5£  ZeXeiav  tvatov  :  ib.  465  irpo^ovro  Z/ca/tdi'Spioj'  (and  so  5  before 
Z/cd/iai'Spe,  ii.  223):  Od.  5.  237  tirfiTa  ffK^irapvov.  Allowance  must  be 
made  for  the  greater  freedom  in  the  metrical  treatment  of  proper 
names  which  were  indispensable  to  the  poet ;  and  aKtirapvov  might 
then  be  excused  by  the  analogy  of  S/cauavSpoj.  But  it  is  also  possible 
that  there  were  older  alternative  forms  with  a  single  consonant,  as 
Seymour  suggests,  comparing  ffKidva./j.ai,  KLSvafuti :  fffUKpos,  yuocpoy.  He 
illustrates  a  possible  Aa«cw0os  by  Aei/£iir7ros  for  Zetf£iiriros  in  a  Boeotian 
inscription.  [Remark  how  well  this  agrees  with  the  Boeotian  origin  of 
the  '  Catalogue,'  which  furnishes  both  the  examples  of  ?  before  f :  see 
above,  p.  41.]  He  also  notes,  however,  that  ZatcwOos  was  current  as  a 
Greek  name  for  Saguntum,  and  that  the  Z,  in  this  particular  name,  may 
have  been  sounded  like  S,  when  analogy  might  help  to  account  for 
the  e  before  ZAetao. 

3.  The  short  first  syllable  of  dvdpoTTJTa  (//.  16.  857,  22.  363,  24.  6) 
is  unexplained.  The  word  is  probably  a  corruption  of  some  older  word 
equivalent  to  it  in  sense. 

VII.      Vowels  of  variable  quantity. — Alternative  farms. 

Some  vowels  which,  in  later  verse,  were  regularly  short,  are  of 
variable  quantity  in  Homeric  verse.  When  they  are  long,  they 
usually  have  ictus.  But  in  many  (at  least)  of  these  instances  ictus 
cannot  be  assumed  as  the  only  cause.  Rather,  as  Seymour  observes, 
most  of  these  vowels  had  originally  been  long,  and  were  in  process  of 
becoming  short ;  compare  the  Homeric  tros,  /ecfXoj,  <j>apos  with  the  later 
fcros,  KcfXos,  <f>£pos. — So  d  in  'AiroXXw?,  but  d  (with  ictus)  in  'AirdXXwvoj 
(11.  i.  14):  *Ap«,  "Apej  (5.  31):  sin  TXaos:  fin  lepoj,  fo/xtp,  xovlri,  in 

13—2 


I96  HOMER. 

several  verbs  in  -tw,  and  comparatives  in  -luv  :  if  in  vSup,  and  in  verbs 
in  -iiia.  The  z  of  the  name  Sidon  is  regularly  long  in  later  poetry,  as  in 
Od.  4.  84  SiSovioi/j:  yet  //.  23.  743  has  'ZlSoves. 

Alternative  forms.  —  The  number  of  such  forms  has  been  noticed 
above  (p.  136)  as  characteristic  of  the  Homeric  dialect.  They  may  be 
roughly  classified  under  two  heads,  as  vocal  and  consonantal,  (a)  A 
short  vowel  alternates  with  a  long  vowel  or  a  diphthong:  as  tvs,  f,vs: 
veos,  vi)6s:  Aiovva-os  (Od.  n.  325),  AioWuoj  (//.  6.  135):  vtos,  vekiroj: 
•fifjJwv,  yiJLfluv  :  pa.6tr)s,  /3adeirjs  :  6Xoo's,  <5Xoios.  So  in  verbal  forms, 
ayajjicu,  dyalo/j.ai:  reX^w,  reXdw,  etc.  —  A  special  cause  of  variety  is 
what  is  called  '  metathesis  (shifting)  of  quantity,'  when,  the  first  of  two 
vowels  having  been  shortened,  the  second  is  lengthened.  Thus  -do,  in 
the  genitive,  passes  (through  -170)  into  -ew  ('Arpe/Sao,  'ArpelSeui). 
Similarly  such  a  form  as  ffrtufj.ei>  (2nd  aor.  subj.  forq/u)  comes  from 
ffrijofj-ev.  (6)  A  single  consonant  alternates  with  a  double  consonant  : 
'AxiXXetfs,  'Ax'Xetfj:  'OSwrcretfj,  'Odvffefa:  TpiKKri  (//.  2.  729).  TptVc?;  (4. 
202)  :  tfjLevai,  (iJ.fj.fvcn  :  ptaov,  plvyov  :  OTTWS,  STTTTWS,  etc. 

VIII.     Synizesis.  —  Elision.  —  Apocope. 

ffwlfyais  (a  '  settling  down  ')  means  that  two  vowels  collapse  (as  it 
were)  into  one  long  sound,  instead  of  either  keeping  their  separate 
metrical  values,  or  coalescing  into  a  diphthong.  So  in  //.  3.  27,  where 
GeoeiSta  is  the  last  word  of  the  verse,  ea  forms  one  syllable.  Cp.  //.  i  . 
15  xpv(r£({)  ova.  ffKrprrpif):  2.  367  yvtlxreai  5':  Od.  i.  298  17  oi5/c  dfety 
(first  words  of  verse).  In  //.  I.  340  et  irore  $77  avre  (not  8*  oure)  is 
thus  justified.  —  Synizesis  was  probably  less  frequent  in  the  original 
Homeric  text  than  it  is  in  ours,  owing  to  the  use  of  some  older  forms 
which  were  afterwards  modified  ;  e.g.,  HijXrjiddeu  (//.  i.  i)  was  doubt- 


Elision. The  diphthong  ai  can  be  elided  in  the  verbal  endings 
-fMi,  -ffai  (except  in  the  infin.),  -rat,  -aOai.  —  There  is  only  one  instance 
in  which  the  -at  of  the  nom.  fern.  plur.  is  elided,  //.  n.  272  ws  <5£«' 
65vva.i,  and  the  verse  is  doubtful.  —  01  can  be  elided  in  /u.ot,  trot  [//.  i  .  1  70], 
TOI.  —  Elision  of  datival  t  occurs,  though  rarely  :  //.  5.  5  dffrtp  dirwpuxj). 
—  Avrl,  irepi,  rl,  on,  TO,  irpo,  are  not  elidea. 

Apocope  is  the  cutting  off  of  a  short  final  vowel  before  a  consonant, 
as  //.  i  8  rit  r  ap  <70we  (for  apa).  So  d/j,  (dvb.)  ireoiov,  KCLTT  (/caret) 
Trediov,  Kaaropvvffa  (KaraffropvSffa,  //.  17.  32),  irap  (irapa)  vqGtv.  In  //. 
i.  459  avtpvffav  probably  comes  from  dvaftpvaav  by  apocope  (<u>ftpv<ra.v), 
assimilation  (&Ffipvaa.v),  and,  finally,  vocalisation  of/  into  v.  as  in  //. 
13.  41  aviaxoi  =dfiaxoi,  or  a  +  fiax^  (i-e-  '  noiseless,  '  if  the  a  be  privative, 
or  'with  cries,'  if  it  be  copulative).  Cp.  xavd^ais  =  /cara/a£  at  s  (Ka.ra.y- 
vvp.i),  Hes.  Opp.  666.  —  Besides  the  three  prepositions  just  named,  dird 


APPENDIX.  197 

and  into  in  composition  can  suffer  apocope:  Od.  15.  83  ainrtp\l/ei  = 
oToW/i^et :  //.  19.  80  fy3/3dXAe«'  =  UTro/SoXXeti'.  Apocope  was  used 
in  the  ordinary  speech  of  some  dialects  (e.g.  Her.  i.  8,  o 


A  LIST  OF  BOOKS  ON  HOMER. 

The  purpose  of  this  list  is  not  to  give  a  full  bibliography,  even  of 
recent  work.  Its  aim  is  to  help  the  student  by  indicating  the  more 
important  books  in  each  department,  so  that  he  may  know,  in  outline, 
what  has  been  done  for  Homer  up  to  the  present  time,  and  what  are 
the  chief  sources  available  for  consultation. — Asterisks  are  prefixed  to 
a  few  books,  which  may  be  especially  recommended  to  English  students, 
in  sections  I.  III.  IV.  V. 

I.     Editions  and  Commentaries. 

This  list  will  include  the  more  noteworthy  of  the  old  editions; 
because,  even  where  they  have  been  superseded  in  a  critical  sense,  they 
retain  their  historical  interest  as  land-marks  in  the  modern  study  of 
Homer. 

A  line  may  conveniently  be  drawn  between  the  editions  before  and 
after  1788,  when  Villoison,  in  his  Iliad,  based  on  Venetus  A,  first 
published  the  ancient  scholia  of  that  MS. 

After  a  date,  'f.'  denotes  that  the  publication  of  the  work  was 
continued  in  the  following  year  ;  '  ff.',  in  the  following  years. 

I.  Editions  before  1788. — Editio  princeps:  Demetrius  Chal- 
condylas,  Florence,  1488. — First  Aldine  edition,  Venice,  1504:  second, 
1517. — Juntine  edition,  Florence,  1519. — Francini,  Venice,  1537. — 
Joachim  Camerarius  made  the  first  modern  essay  in  commenting  on  the 
Iliad,  1538  ff.  His  complete  commentary  appeared  at  Frankfort, 
1584. — Turnebus,  Iliad,  Paris,  1554- — H.  Stephanus,  in  Poetae 
Graeci  principes  heroici,  Paris,  1566. — Barnes,  with  scholia  and  notes, 
Cambridge,  1711. — Samuel  Clarke,  with  notes  and  Latin  version, 
London  1729  ff. — Moor  and  Muirhead,  Glasgow  (Foulis  Press),  1756 
ff.  — Ernesti,  Leipsic,  1 759  ff. 

In  connection  with  the  earlier  editions  of  Homer  we  should  notice 
the  editio  princeps  of  the  Commentary  of  Eustathius  (see  p.  100), 
published  at  Rome,  1542  ff.  The  latest  ed.  is  that  of  G.  Stallbaum, 
Leipsic,  1825  ff. 

i.  Editions  in  and  after  1788. — Villoison,  Iliad,  'ad  veteris  Cod. 
Veneti  Hdem  recensita.  Scholia  in  earn  antiquissima  ex  eodem  Cod. 
aliisque  nunc  primum  ed.  cum  asteriscis,  obeliscis,  aliisque  signis 
criticis.'  FoL  Venice,  1788.— Wolf;  Iliad,  Halle,  1794.  [The 


198  HOMER. 

Prolegomena  appeared  in  a  separate  vol.,  in  the  spring  of  1795.]  His 
ed.  of  both  //.  and  Od.,  in  4  vols.,  Leipsic,  1804  ff.,  embellished  with 
32  designs  after  Flaxman, — whose  64  plates  had  first  appeared  in 
1795. — The  Grenville  Homer  (edd.  Randolph,  Cleaver,  Rogers)  with 
Person's  collation  of  the  Harleianus  (see  p.  101),  Oxford,  1800.— 
Heyne,  Iliad,  Leipsic,  1802  ff. — W.  Dindorf  and  F.  Franke,  Leipsic, 
1826  ff. — Spitzner,  Iliad,  Gotha,  1832  ff. — Immanuel  Bekker,  Iliad, 
Berlin,  1843:  both  epics  (2  vols.),  Bonn,  1858.  The  first  scientific 
attempt  to  attain  a  pre-Alexandrine  text. — Kirchhoff,  Odyssey,  Berlin, 
1859  '•  2nc*  fid->  J^79-  With  notes  and  essays  illustrating  his  views 
as  to  the  origin  of  the  epic. — La  Roche,  Odyssey,  Leipsic,  1867  f. : 
Iliad,  1873  ff.  The  apparatus  criticus,  though  full,  is  not  always 
accurate:  see  D.  B.  Monro  in  Trans.  Oxf.  Philol.  Soc.,  1886 — 7,  p.  32. 
— Nauck,  Berlin,  1874  ff. — Fick,  the  poems  translated  back  into  the 
supposed  original  Aeolic,  Odyssey  Gottingen,  1883:  Iliad,  1885  f. — 
Hentze,  text  in  Teubner's  series,  supplementing  Dindorf,  1883. — Christ, 
Iliad,  with  Prolegomena  and  critical  notes,  Munich,  1884. — Rzach,  text 
(with  critical  notes),  Leipsic,  1886. 

3.  The  interest  of  the  editions  above  named  is  mainly  (though  not 
exclusively)   critical.     The   following   editions   may   be   mentioned  as 
valuable  to  students  for  the  commentary  which  they  supply,  while  at 
the  same  time  they  also  deal  more  or  less  with  criticism  of  the  text. 

Heyne,  Iliad  (see  above). — Nitzsch,  Erklarende  Anmerkungen  zu 
Homer's  Odyssee,  I — XII,  Hanover,  1826  ff. — Nagelsbach,  Anmer- 
kungen zur  Ilias  (bks.  I,  n  to  483,  and  in),  3rd  ed.  revised  by 
Autenrieth,  Nuremberg,  1864. — Hayman,  Odyssey,  3  vols.,  London, 
1866  ff.  With  marginal  references,  various  readings,  notes,  and 
appendices. — Paley,  Iliad,  2  vols.,  London,  1866  ff.  [A  2nd  ed.  of 
vol.  n  has  appeared.]  With  an  Introduction  to  each  vol.,  and 
commentary. — *Merry  and  Riddell,  Odyssey  I — xil,  Oxford,  1876. 
With  critical  notes  and  commentary.  Vol.  II  (bks.  xin — xxiv)  is  in 
preparation. — *Leaf,  Iliad  I — xil.  With  English  notes  [both  critical 
and  exegetical]  and  Introduction.  London,  1886.  Vol.  II  (bks. 
XIII — xxiv)  is  in  preparation. 

4.  School   editions,    with   commentary.  —  German. — Iliad.  —  La 
Roche,   Berlin,  1870  ff. — Faesi  and  Franke,   Berlin,   1871  ff. — Ameis 
and  Hentze,  Leipsic,  1872  ff. — Diintzer,  Schb'ningh.,  1873  f. — Odyssey. 
Faesi  and  Kayser,  Berlin,  1871  ff.     The  latest  ed.  has  been  revised  by 
Hinrichs. — Ameis  and   Hentze,   Leipsic,  new  ed.  1874  ff. — Diintzer, 
Schb'ningh.,newed.  18751". — English. — Iliad. — Paley,  London,  1867. — 
*Monro,  bks.  I— XII,  Oxford,  1884.— *  Pratt  and  Leaf  (bks.  i,  ix,  xi, 
XVI — xxiv),   London,    1880.— Odyssey.      *  Merry,   Oxford,   new  ed., 
1884. — *J.  E.  B.  Mayor,  bks.  IX — xil,  London,  1873. 


APPENDIX.  199 

II.     Scholia,  and  Works  bearing  on  the  History  of  the  Text. 

Scholia  on  the  Iliad. — W.  Dindorf,  Oxford,  1875  ff-  Four  vols. 
have  appeared. — Scholia  on  the  Odyssey. — W.  Dindorf,  Oxford,  1855. 

History  of  the  text. — Lehrs,  De  Aristarchi  Studiis  Homericis, 
Leipsic,  3rd  ed.,  1882. — La  Roche,  Die  homerische  Textkritik  im 
Alterthum,  Leipsic,  1866  [not  always  accurate  in  citing  Yen.  A,  as 
Monro  shows:  cp.  above,  p.  199,  1.  13]:  Homerische  Untersuchungen, 
1869. — Romer,  Die  Werke  der  Aristarcheer  im  Cod.  Ventt.  A., 
Munich,  1875. — Ludwich,  Aristarchs  Homerische  Textkritik  nach  den 
Fragtntnten  des  Didymus,  Leipsic,  1884  f. 

III.     Language. 

Buttmann,  Lexilogus,  3rd  Eng.  ed.,  London,  1846.  [Still  valuable, 
especially  as  a  model  of  critical  discussion,  though  liable  to  correction, 
on  some  points,  by  later  results  in  comparative  philology.] — Bekker, 
Homerische  Blatter,  Bonn,  1863,  1872. — Ahrens,  Griechische  Formen- 
lehre  des  Homer.  Dialektes,  Gottingen,  2nd  ed.,  1869. — Delbruck, 
Syntaktische  Forschungen,  Halle,  1871  ff. — Hartel,  Homerische  Studien, 
Vienna,  1871  ff. — Knos,  De  Digammo  Homerico,  Upsala,  1872  ff. — 
Hinrichs,  De  Homericae  Elocutionis  Vcstigiis  Aeolicis,  Jena,  1875. — 
Cobet,  ffomerica,  in  his  Miscellanea  Critica,  pp.  225 — 437,  Leyden, 
1876. — *  Monro,  A  Grammar  of  the  Homeric  Dialect,  Oxford,  1884. — 
*  Seymour,  Introduction  to  the  Language  and  Verse  of  Homer,  Boston, 
U.  S.  A.,  1885. 

IV.     Lexicons  and  Concordances. 

Lexicons. — Crusius,  Leipsic,  1856.  English  transl.  by  H.  Smith, 
ed.  T.  K.  Arnold,  London,  new  ed.  1871.— *Ebeling,  ib.,  1871  ff.— 
"Autenrieth,  ib.,  1877.  English  transl.,  with  additions  and  corrections, 
by  R.  P.  Keep,  London,  1877. — Seiler,  ed.  Capelle,  ib.,  1878. 

Concordances. — Seber,  Index  Homericus,  Oxford,  1780.  [Still  con- 
venient, as  containing  both  //.  and  Od.  in  one  vol.  It  gives  only  the 
number  of  the  book  and  verse  in  which  a  word  occurs,  without  quoting 
the  passage.] — *  Prendergast,  Iliad.  (Every  verse  in  which  a  given 
word  occurs  is  quoted  in  full  under  that  word.)  London  (Longman), 
1875. — *Dunbar,  Odyssey.  (On  the  same  plan  as  the  last.)  Oxford, 
1880. 

V.      Works  illustrating  the  Antiquities  of  the  Homeric  Poems. 

Bellum  et  excidium  Troianum  ex  Antiqq.  reliquiis,  tabula  praesertim 
quam  Raph.  Fabrettus  edidit  Iliaca,  delin.  et  adi.  in  calce  commentario 
illustr.  ad.  Laur.  Begero.  Berlin,  1699  (Leipsic,  Rud.  Weigel).  58 
copper-plates,  with  text.  [The  tabu/a  Iliaca  is  a  marble  relief,  inscribed 
(irlvag),  now  in  the  Capitoline  Museum  at  Rome.  The  central 


200  HOMER. 

subject  is  the  destruction  of  Troy,  while  on  either  side  are  numerous 
scenes  from  the  Iliad  and  from  other  epics  of  the  Trojan  cycle. — The 
work  is  perhaps  of  the  ist  cent.  A.D. :  see  Bergk,  Grk.  Lit.  \.  913.] — 
Iliados  picturae  antiquae  ex  Codice  Mediolanensi  Bibliothecae  Ambrosi- 
anae.  Rome,  1835.  (Leipsic,  Weigel.)  This  'Codex  Ambrosianus 
pictus'  was  first  published  by  Angelo  Mai,  Milan,  1819. — Inghirami, 
Galleria  Omerica.  (A  collection  of  ancient  monuments  illustrative  of 
Homer.)  Florence,  1827  ff. — Volcker,  Ueber  Homer.  Geographie  und 
Weltkunde.  Hanover,  1830. — Gladstone,  Studies  on  Homer,  London, 
1858:  Juventus  Mundi,  1869. — Nagelsbach,  Die  Homerische  Theologie, 
Nuremberg,  1861. — Brunn,  Die  Kunst  bei  Homer,  Munich,  1868. — 
*Buchholz,  Die  homerische  Realien,  Leipsic,  1871  ff. — "Harrison,  Miss 
J.  E.,  The  Myths  of  the  Odyssey,  London,  1882. — Bunbury,  History  of 
Ancient  Geography,  vol.  I.ch.  3  {' Homeric  Geography '),  London,  1883. 
— *  Helbig,  Das  homerische  Epos  aus  den  Denkmdlcm  erldutert.  Leipsic, 
[884. 

VI.     The  Homeric  Question. 

Robert  Wood,  Essay  on  the  Original  Genius  of  Homer,  London, 
1769. — Wolfs  Prolegomena.  Halle,  1795. — Volkmann,  Geschichte  und 
Kritik  der  Wolfschen  Prolegomena  zu  Homer.  Leipsic,  1874. — Lach- 
mann,  Betrachtungen  ilber  Homers  Ilias.  Berlin,  3rd  ed.  1874. — Her- 
mann, Dissertatio  de  Interpolationibus  Homeri.  In  Opusc.  V.  p.  52, 
Leipsic,  1834.  Ueber  Homer  und  Sappho,  ib.  VI.  pars  i.  p.  70,  1835. 
De  Iteratis  apud  Homerum,  ib.  vin.  p.  n,  1840. — Kochly,  Iliadis 
Carmina  XVI.  restituta.  Turin,  1861. — Nitzsch,  De  Historia  Homeri, 
etc.  (See  above,  p.  m,  n.  3.)  Hanover,  1830  ff. — Welcker,  Der 
epische  Cyclus,  Bonn,  1835  ff. — Grote,  Hist,  of  Greece,  Part  I.,  ch. 
XXI.  (Vol.  II.,  p.  160.)  London,  ist  ed.,  1848:  new  ed.,  1870. — 
Friedlander,  Die  homerische  Kritik  von  Wolf  bis  Grote.  Berlin,  1853. 
— Lauer,  Geschichte  der  homerischen  Poesie.  Berlin,  1851. — Sengebusch, 
two  Dissertationes  Homericae,  in  Dindorf's  Homer  (Teubner).  Leipsic, 
1855  f. :  new  ed.,  1873. — Paley,  Introductions  to  Iliad  (see  under  I.), 
vol.  I.  pp.  xi — li,  1866;  voL  II.  v — Iviii,  1871.  See  also  his  tract, 
Homeri  quae  nunc  exstant  an  reliqui  cycli  carminibus  antiquiora  iure 
habita  sint.  London,  1878. — Nutzhorn,  Die  Entstehungsweise  der 
Homerischen  Gedichte,  Leipsic,  1869.  [Originally  in  Danish:  Copen- 
hagen, 1863.] — Kirchhoff,  Die  Composition  der  Odyssee.  Gesammelte 
Aiifsatze.  Berlin,  1869.  [His  Odyssey,  2nd  ed.  1879,  should  also  be 
consulted.] — Geddes,  The  Problem  of  the  Homeric  Poems.  London, 
1878. — Pick's  views  are  given  in  his  Odyssey,  1883,  and  Iliad  (ist 
half,  1885):  see  under  I. — W.  Christ,  Prolegomena  to  the  fliad  (see 
under  I.):  1884. — Wilamowitz,  Homerische  Untersuchuugen.  Berlin, 
1884. — Leaf,  Introduction  to  Iliad  I — XII  (see  under  I.),  pp.  xi — xxvi, 
1 386.— Seeck,  Die  Quellen  der  OJyssee.  Berlin,  1887. 


HOMER.  201 

Histories  of  Greek  Literature. — In  regard  to  the  Homeric  question, 
much  that  is  valuable  will  be  found  in  the  work  of  Theodor  Bergk,  vol. 
I.,  Berlin,  1873  :  also  in  Bemhardy's  History,  vol.  u.  part  I.  (3rd  ed. , 
Halle,  1877).  The  chapters  on  Homer  in  Mure's  work  are  interesting 
as  a  defence,  marked  by  much  ability  and  freshness,  of  the  old 
conservative  view  (vols.  I.  II.,  bk.  ii.,  chaps,  ii. — xvii.,2nd  ed.,  London, 
'854). 

VII.     English   Translations. 

Verse.  —  Iliad.  Chapman.  —  Pope. — Cowper.  —  Lord  Derby. — 
Cordery  (with  Greek  text). — Way  (I — XII,  1886). — Odyssey.  Pope.— 
Worsley  and  Conington. — Schomberg  (Gen.  G.  A.,  1879). — Way. — 
Lord  Carnarvon  (l — XII,  1886). 

Prose. — Iliad.  Lang,  Leaf,  and  Myers. — Odyssey.  Butcher  and 
Lang.— G.  H.  Palmer  (l— xn,  Boston,  U.S.A.,  1884). 


THE   END. 


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JAN  1  1  1978 

C139 

UCSD  Libr. 

